A Call to Arms
by My Dear Professor McGonagall
Summary: What happened at Hogwarts when the Boy Who Lived disappeared?
1. Chapter 1

"All right," Mum said, kissing Ginny's forehead and tugging her jumper straight. Arnold the Pygmy Puff sat comfortably nuzzled against Ginny's neck. "Be careful, dear, and—"

Ginny gave a strained smile and caught her mother's wrists. "I'll be fine, Mum," she said, trying not to sound annoyed as her eyes flickered over to the tall, cloaked men who stood at each of the doors onto the Hogwarts Express, checking each student for their ticket.

Mum nodded, her chin trembling slightly.

"I promise," Ginny told her, giving her a tight hug. "I love you. I'll see you at Christmas. Give Dad a kiss for me."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Mum sighed, hugging Ginny tightly. Arnold gave a squeak as the train whistle blew, and Ginny pulled back.

"I've got to go," she said. "Stay safe for me. Make the boys behave. Don't let Fleur drive you completely mad—ah, and don't—no, don't cry—"

Mum gave a great sniff and hurriedly wiped her tears away. "Get on the train, Ginny, for goodness' sake, and write me when you're there."

"I'll do my best," Ginny promised, and Mum smiled slightly.

"Go on," she said, chivvying Ginny towards the train as the whistle blew again.

Ginny hopped through the door at the last moment, presenting her ticket to the mustachioed guard, who glowered at her suspiciously.

"I was _just_ here with my trunk," she said disparagingly, and he grunted, pocketing her ticket.

Ginny shook her head and turned her back on him, looking for the compartment where she and Luna had left their things. When she found it, she was unsurprised to see Neville sitting with Luna. He stood and hugged her.

"Love the welcoming committee," Ginny said darkly, tucking Arnold safely into his cage and sitting down beside Luna.

"I think they were warned about us," she said sagely, nodding to each of them as the train lurched into motion. "One of them gave Neville and me a rather bad time. He took away my _Quibbler_ and said I'd be in trouble if I was caught with another."

Ginny felt a knot of anger in her stomach tighten. "What d'you mean, warned?"

Neville sat forward. "They know we're friends with Harry," he said. "I had to open my trunk and everything before they'd let me on the train."

"What, did they expect him to be hiding inside?" Ginny scoffed.

Neville shrugged, but Luna said, "Well, it's not as if they have any other ideas as to where he might be."

"Oh, come off it," said Ginny incredulously. "They can't honestly believe he's stupid enough to turn up on the Hogwarts Express, can they?"

"Speaking of which," Neville said in a low voice, as he rose and looked through the glass door of their compartment. "Have you heard anything from…?"

Ginny sighed and shook her head. "Nothing since the wedding. Mum's been beside herself." Her stomach gave a little pang as she thought of the last seconds she had seen Harry, Ron, and Hermione before they had vanished.

"They've got to be safe," Luna said reassuringly, laying a hand on Ginny's arm. "I think You-Know-Who would have liked to make a big deal of it if he'd caught them."

Ginny gave her a flicker of a smile. "If he'd caught _Harry_," she corrected. "But what's one more unreported death of a blood traitor or a Muggleborn?"

Luna blinked.

Ginny shook herself. "Sorry," she said. "We can't start thinking like that."

"Right," said Neville bracingly. "They've got to be safe. Maybe we'll hear from them soon," he added, and Ginny smiled, though she could tell that Neville and Luna knew as well as she did that no such message would ever make it past the new Hogwarts staff, even if Harry and the others tried to send it.

"So," Luna said suddenly. "Is your family all right?"

Ginny nodded. "Everyone got out of the wedding all right, and my brothers are fine for now. The story my mum and dad told McGonagall is that Ron's got spattergroit. Hermione's modified her parents' memories and moved them to Australia so it looks like she's gone into hiding, like Harry."

Neville sighed. "It's really just us then, isn't it?" he asked.

"Certainly not," Luna said. "We've still got a lot of the D.A., don't we?"

"Yes, but we don't know how many of them we can still trust, Luna," Ginny said. "I don't think they'd willingly give us up, but…who can tell, now? We could put everyone in a lot of danger."

"But are we supposed to just sit by and do nothing?" Neville asked. "Let whoever these Carrows are run the school? I don't want to give up on Hogwarts," he said grimly.

"Nor do I," Ginny began. "But I think we can manage alone, don't you?"

Luna wrinkled her brow and fell silent. Neville, however, nodded slowly. "I mean…we _have_ fought Death Eaters before."

"Exactly," Ginny said eagerly. "Look, we can't exactly duel them in the corridors, but I think that between the three of us, we can definitely cause some trouble for Snape."

"How?" Neville asked.

"Well, that's the beauty of just having the three of us," said Ginny excitedly. "We can plan almost anything we want, if we just keep it secret."

"What about the D.A.?" Luna asked.

"Ginny's right—I don't think we can count on it anymore," said Neville, who seemed to be warming up to Ginny's idea. "At least not as it used to be. I think if the three of us just watch what's going on with these Carrow people, we can end up doing more good."

"It's settled then," Ginny said brightly.

"Only if Luna agrees, Ginny," Neville insisted, looking back at Luna.

Luna sighed. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I just think it would be a better idea to stick together. They've already started a campaign against Muggleborns—purebloods first. How long until it's Slytherins first, or Death Eaters first? If we start deciding that only a few of us are worthy of fighting back, we're no better than they are."

Ginny blinked.

"What about this," Neville said quickly. "We lay low for a while, get a feel for these new folk, and then we see about finding the old members of the D.A."

"But just us, to start with," said Ginny firmly. She looked at Luna, who still seemed perturbed. "It's not a question of worth, Luna, you know that. We can't just put people in harm's way, especially if they're unsure. If they have the slightest hesitation, we could be in very real trouble very quickly."

"I suppose," Luna said, looking down at her hands for a moment. Then she met Ginny's eyes. "All right," she said decisively, with a slight smile. "Let's do it."

Ginny beamed and hugged her.

"All right," Neville said, grinning. "So what do we know about these two Snape's got waiting for us?"

"The Carrows," Luna said, looking straight to Ginny. "Do you know anything about them?"

Ginny shook her head. "Not much, except Harry said…well, they were on the tower…last June…"

Neville looked a little taken aback. "Right," he said. "So they'll be loads of fun."

"Loads," Ginny echoed, glancing at Luna, who seemed to be suddenly lost in thought, her large eyes staring off into space. "Luna?"

She looked back to Ginny, startled. "I was just thinking," she said. "This might be the last time we ride the Hogwarts Express."

Ginny stared at her, and an icy chill seemed to fill the compartment. Neville sat back in his seat, and Luna turned her gaze out of the window, watching the countryside flick past.

* * *

When the train arrived in Hogsmeade and they disembarked, Ginny was shocked by the unseasonably cold and misty night air. She felt Neville and Luna standing directly behind her, staring up at the silhouette of the castle—hooded figures in long cloaks hovered in clouds high above Hogwarts.

"Dementors," Ginny muttered, tucking Arnold's cage more securely under her arm.

"Let's get a carriage," Luna said softly, her enormous eyes on the dementors.

"Firs' years! Firs' years, this way! C'mon!"

Ginny grinned at the first familiar sound she'd heard all day, and ran over to Hagrid, who beamed when he saw her.

"Ginny! We've got one!" Neville shouted.

Ginny gave Hagrid a hurried hug around the middle. "I'll see you at the feast!" she said.

Hagrid looked momentarily upset. "Nah—I—I can' make it tonight," he said. "Why don' yeh—oi, you lot, get back here!" Two of the first years had nearly wandered off towards the lake.

"Ginny!"

Unable to linger with Hagrid, Ginny gave up and hurried over to Luna and Neville, who stood by the nearest horseless carriage, and they all clambered in.

The musty old coaches swayed and bumped along, up the winding road to the school. Ginny felt a shiver rush down her spine as they passed the dementors, and she reached for Luna's ice-cold hand as a sickening flash of the Chamber of Secrets threatened, as it always did in the presence of a dementor, to overtake her. She pushed it back, focusing on Luna's hand and the warmth she knew was waiting for her inside the castle.

"Lovely weather we're having," said a familiar voice as Luna, Neville, and Ginny disembarked before the sweeping stone steps. Seamus Finnigan was rubbing his arms as he, Parvati Patil, and Lavender Brown climbed out of their carriage. Luna and Neville both happily greeted the others as they followed the crowd of students making their way to the double doors that led to the cavernous entrance hall.

Ginny was having a hard time stopping herself from shaking as they passed the burly guards placed by the castle doors, but it was not just the cold of the dementors that was getting to her. Something was very odd. Walking across the threshold of the castle felt wrong; her stomach twisted in a knot of anxiety. She clasped her hands together tightly, trying to warm her fingers—

"No one's talking," Luna whispered in her ear, as though she'd read Ginny's mind. "That's what's wrong."

She was right. Ginny looked around at all the students around her. Everyone wore an expression of mounting unease. There were two second-year girls at the very front of the knot of students filing into the Great Hall who both looked as though they were on the verge of tears.

"This is all wrong," Neville said.

Ginny stopped on the threshold of the Great Hall. It seemed that nearly all of Slytherin House was seated. She caught sight of Draco Malfoy sitting with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, and scowled. The other House tables looked severely depleted. In fact, compared to the sheer number of Slytherins, there were next to no Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, or Gryffindors. Ginny looked around at the group of sixth- and seventh-years that had followed her, Neville, and Luna inside the castle; there were not many, and they all stood together, stopped at the doors of the Great Hall, as though terrified to move alone.

"Blimey, look at him," Seamus groaned, and Ginny followed his gaze.

Standing at the very center of the staff table was Professor Snape, looking the same as ever. Hooked nose, sharp eyes, and greasy black hair hanging in front of his pale face, which stood out sharply in contrast to his black, sweeping robes. But, as Ginny watched him, a prickle of fear ran up her spine. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but something about him seemed even colder.

"Is it just me, or does he look more evil this year?" Seamus muttered. "Go on, find us a spot before he decides to murder us too."

"Seamus," Parvati hissed.

"Take your seats, _now_." Professor Snape's voice rang out over the Great Hall, and the little knot of sixth- and seventh-years clustered at the door broke immediately, scattering themselves to the four House tables. "The Sorting ceremony may begin," said Professor Snape to Professor McGonagall, who stepped forward, holding a scroll and the three-legged stool bearing the Sorting Hat. She looked a little thin and very pale, and her mouth was set in a very firm line.

But there was a steely look in her sharp eyes that Ginny remembered all too well; it was the exact one McGonagall had always had when she'd looked upon Professor Umbridge. Ginny smiled inwardly.

"Look at McGonagall," said Neville, grimacing up at the staff table. "She looks furious—they all do—"

He was absolutely correct; Ginny couldn't remember ever seeing the staff look so distressed. Professor Sprout had an uncharacteristic scowl, while Professor Slughorn seemed to be torn between putting on a show of joviality for the students, and shooting occasional looks of utter terror at his colleagues. Even Professor Flitwick was sullen and unsmiling, tapping his fingers testily on the wood of the table.

Ginny frowned suddenly, seeing three empty seats—if Hagrid was the only staff member missing, then the Carrows should have already been in their chairs. "Hang on," she whispered in Neville's ear. "If McGonagall's up there, who's with the fir—"

With an echoing bang, the doors of the Great Hall swung upon, and all heads turned to see a line of no more than thirty or so petrified eleven-year-olds being hurried down the center aisle.

"Is that—?" Seamus began, his jaw dropping.

"Must be," Neville muttered, as a witch and wizard, black-robed, round-shouldered, and rather ugly, shoved the line of first-years towards the staff table.

"Do they have their _wands_ trained on those kids?" asked Parvati indignantly, as Lavender put her hands over her mouth. Ginny scowled at the sight of one Carrow's wand prodding into the back of a young girl who looked as though she were about to burst into tears.

Muttering had broken out all over the Great Hall, for everyone seemed to have noticed exactly the same thing. Professor McGonagall had paled even more by the time the first-years stood before her.

Seamus lifted his eyebrows, glancing at Neville and Ginny. "Wonder if Snape'll let the Hat—"

At that precise moment, the rip at the brim of the Sorting Hat opened wide.

_"Centuries ago, my dears,  
__When first this castle stood,  
__There lived four wizards whose lives always  
__Aimed for their students' good._

_They founded Hogwarts school, you see,  
__They started something great,  
__Which through the years still stands today,  
__A pillar inviolate._

_Inviolate it seems, at least,  
__Though some might disagree,  
__For discord broke the Founders four  
__And brought them down to three._

_So discord threatened us again  
__And bravely Hogwarts fought.  
__Sometimes, however, the bravest men  
__Must fall and take their lot._

_But is it gone, this dream of good?  
__Is it lost to time?  
__For I feel within these walls  
__A power of some kind._

_This power cannot be contained,  
__So long as it is fed,  
__As armies cannot be detained  
__So long as they are led._

_I urge you now, be like the four,  
__Be wise, kind, sharp, and brave,  
__Else these times we live through now  
__Will become Hogwarts' grave."_

The Hat fell still. No one applauded.

"Oh, no," Lavender muttered, burying her head in her arms. Even more, louder murmurs had broken out over the Great Hall.

"That was colorful," Ginny said, looking at Neville and Seamus, who looked a little shaken. She glanced back up at the head table, to where the first-years stood. One boy was not facing front, but staring at the large double doors he had just come through, as though he were debating whether or not to make a break for it. Ginny couldn't blame him.

"Silence," called Professor Snape from the staff table, and a hush fell immediately throughout the hall.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward. "When I call your names," she said clearly, though in a much kinder tone than Ginny had ever heard her use, "You will step forward, put on the Sorting Hat, and be placed in your Houses." She unrolled the scroll she held. "Alistair, Evelyn."

The little girl whom Ginny had noticed before stepped forward. She was whiter than a sheet, and positively shaking from head to foot as she seated herself on the three-legged stool before the staff table. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head, and it dropped below her eyes, but did not take long before it shouted,

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Evelyn Alistair hopped off the stool and scurried towards the Gryffindors, who burst into raucous applause, as though they were trying to make up for the poor welcome that she'd received up till now. Seamus stomped his feet and whistled, while Ginny, Parvati, Lavender, and Neville all yelled at the top of their voices—Evelyn Alistair looked quite overwhelmed, and was just starting to grin when a loud volley of bangs silenced the Gryffindors' cheers.

"There is no need for talk," barked Professor Snape, lowering his wand. He looked at Professor McGonagall and nodded curtly, seating himself again.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward again, and even from halfway down the table, Ginny could see the telltale muscle in her jaw twitching.

"Ambrose, Colin."

The boy who had earlier looked as though he wanted to run stepped forward and sat down on the stool. Professor McGonagall put the Sorting Hat on his head. It deliberated for a short while before announcing,

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

This time, no one applauded. There was only uncomfortable silence as the oldest students in each House made eye contact.

"Fourteen," said Seamus as "Bryn, Bronwyn" was Sorted into Ravenclaw. Ginny frowned.

"Fourteen what?" Neville asked.

"Fourteen original members of the D.A. left," said Seamus. "Us, Luna, the Hufflepuffs if we count that Zacharias git, and all the other Ravenclaws except Cho and that sneak Marietta."

Neville looked surprised. "That can't be right," he whispered, as "Kendall, Magda" became a Slytherin.

"It is," Parvati said, shaking her head. "Without Ron, Harry, Hermione…anyone who wasn't too old was Muggleborn. It's just us."

"Don't think we can do it, Patil?" asked Seamus, grinning, and Parvati smiled back. Neville and Ginny exchanged nervous glances.

"Of course we can," Parvati whispered. "We just need to be more creative, that's all. Get some new members."

Seamus winked and faced front again as the Sorting concluded as Ginny and Neville had a brief but silent argument about what to tell the others. Ginny shook her head furiously, and Neville finally relented.

Professor McGonagall carried away the Sorting Hat and the stool and Professor Snape rose once again.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said slowly. "I have several start-of-term announcements. First and foremost, the Quidditch Cup Inter-House Championship has been disbanded."

There was an outbreak of angry muttering, but Ginny's heart just sank. She had guessed, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she would not be able to play Quidditch this year. Still, she had hoped that maybe, just maybe, _something_ of the old Hogwarts would be preserved.

Snape was glaring down his hooked nose at the Gryffindor table, waiting for silence. The whispers stopped at once. "This is in accordance with safety concerns on the grounds," he said. "Your access to the lawns and Black Lake will now be closely supervised. Any students found in or near the Forbidden Forest without express permission will find themselves in detention." He looked around the hall, his black eyes glittering. "Now, for those who may not be aware, we have had a few last-minute changes to our staff."

"Yeah, you and your ugly friends, you overgrown gargoyle," Seamus muttered angrily, but Ginny shoved his shoulder, for Snape's eyes were fixed on the Gryffindor table.

"You will all welcome Professor Amycus Carrow, who will take on lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Professor Alecto Carrow, who will teach Muggle Studies," said Snape, gesturing first to his left, and then to his right, where the Carrows had seated themselves on either side of the Headmaster's chair.

There was a faint, half-hearted round of feeble applause, during which Ginny glared at Alecto's pudgy, misshapen face; she was leering at the small collection of first-year Gryffindors, who looked petrified with fright. Amycus had a vile, lopsided grin on his uneven features, plopped in his seat between Snape and Professor Sprout.

"And just where is Professor Burbage?"

Stunned gasps echoed around the Great Hall, as every pair of eyes sought out the speaker.

"Oh, no," Neville groaned, staring in shock at the Hufflepuff table, where Ernie Macmillan was standing, his chin raised high and his fists clenched. Ginny's spine tingled, and she slipped her hand inside her pocket, closing her fingers around her wand.

Professor Snape met his eyes for the briefest of moments before looking away. "As I was say—" He paused and looked coldly down at Alecto Carrow, who had risen, and was whispering something excitedly in his ear.

At last, Snape sighed and nodded. "You will also find," he said loudly, "that your new professors are also in charge of discipline, as of this evening."

"Oh, bloody hell," Seamus muttered, as Parvati and Lavender both gasped. None of them were listening to Professor Snape. All eyes were on the Carrows, who had both stood by now, and were walking slowly towards the Hufflepuff table, where Ernie had sat down again, though his eyes were locked on the Carrows and his jaw was set.

Snape was still speaking. "They have sole discretion over all detentions and punishments for rule-breaking," he explained. "As such, you would all do well to acquaint yourselves with the new rules set in place for your safety and protection this year."

"What are they _doing_?" demanded Ginny, not bothering to lower her voice, for the entire hall was chattering loudly as the Carrows both stopped before Ernie.

"Wha's your name, handsome?" asked Alecto, with a nasty giggle.

Ernie looked at her as though she were scum on the bottom of his shoe. "Macmillan," he said proudly. "Ernie Macmillan."

"Well, Ernie Macmillan," wheezed Amycus, still grinning, "You're about ter show all yer friends here what happens when we speak out of turn at Hogwarts."

"Like hell," Ginny said violently, rising simultaneously with half of the students and all of the staff. She reached for her wand, but before she had it out of her pocket—

"STOP!"

Everyone in the hall turned to see that Professor McGonagall had returned to the hall. She raced forward with her wand drawn and eyes blazing, reaching Ernie in seconds. She planted herself between him and the Carrows.

"That is enough," she growled, though it seemed to echo throughout the Great Hall. "You've made your point."

"You're not deputy anymore, _Minerva_," spat Alecto venomously. "You don't have a say in this."

"As Macmillan's head of house, I certainly do," cried Professor Sprout; she was hurrying down from where she had leapt to her feet at the staff table. She stood before Professor McGonagall, ten times more furious as she stared Alecto squarely in the eye. "He is a prefect. He will be briefed on your new rules, and you won't have any more trouble from him. You have my word." As she spoke, she looked back at Ernie, who gave a reluctant jerk of his head and sat down again, where Hannah Abbott pulled him tightly into her arms.

"Stand down, Professor Carrow," said Snape at last, breaking the tense silence that had fallen. "It's time to begin the feast."

With last looks of bitter hatred, McGonagall, Sprout, and the Carrows broke apart, each returning to their seats at the staff table. Amycus made quite a show of pulling out Professor Sprout's chair, which she took, her expression appropriate to one who had just been force-fed a dirt-flavored Every Flavor Bean. McGonagall and Alecto, meanwhile, took the only two empty seats, directly on Professor Snape's other side.

"All of you, sit down," Professor Snape barked suddenly, startling Ginny, who hadn't realized that she and most of the other Gryffindors were still on their feet. She sat hurriedly, glancing sideways at Neville. He looked furious, but said nothing.

"All Heads of House will meet with their students in their common rooms immediately following dinner to discuss the new rules now in place," said Professor Snape. He then raised one arm and passed it over the four tables, which filled immediately with food, and sat down.

After a few moments of stunned silence, the scraping of forks and knives could be heard, though there was next to no talking. Ginny looked up at the head table once again. Professor McGonagall was not eating, but staring testily down at her empty plate, while on her left Alecto Carrow ladled stew into her own dish. Professor Slughorn and Professor Flitwick were exchanging anxious glances, and Professor Sprout was ignoring the undoubtedly crude remark Amycus had just made in her ear.

"We are _not_ putting anyone else in danger," Ginny said in a low voice, as Neville scooped some mashed potatoes onto her plate. "Tell Seamus we're not planning anything, and I'll tell the girls. They can't know."

"Right," Neville muttered back.

* * *

Ginny stood by the fireplace in Gryffindor Tower, staring blankly into the flickering flames. It was hard to believe how wrong everything was. Ever since Bill's wedding, she had had a tight knot of anxiety and irritation in the very pit of her stomach, and even despite her nerves about Harry, Ron, and Hermione, she had somehow thought that returning to Hogwarts would make her feel safe again.

Instead, she was unhappy to be away from her family, infuriated at the very thought of Snape as headmaster, and worst of all, she was sad. She was sad that her school was so far gone, she was sad at the idea of her teachers forced to follow the dictates of Snape and the Carrows, and she was sad at the sight she now faced in the common room.

The entire House was gathered silently all across the packed common room, not daring to go to bed before Professor McGonagall had arrived. No one had seen her since dinner.

"Where is she?" asked Ritchie Coote nervously, jiggling his leg in his armchair.

Ginny turned and looked at him. "She's probably getting in trouble for dinner. I don't reckon the Carrows were expecting that."

"Who _are_ they, anyway?" piped up Jimmy Peakes.

"Er—" Ginny opened her mouth, looking at Neville, who shook his head urgently from where he stood by the stairs to the dormitories. "They're just…more people the Ministry sent," she said quickly, before walking over to Neville.

"It's the first-years," he said quietly, nodding to a little alcove of bookshelves where all seven of them sat together. "They're scared out of their minds. That one girl hasn't stopped crying since we got up here."

Ginny looked over at the little knot of eleven-year-olds, all of whom looked positively exhausted and were trembling with fear. She sighed, feeling disappointed and guilty that everyone seemed to have forgotten about them. She grabbed Neville's hand. "Come on," she said, leading him over to the first-years. She sat down cross-legged beside Evelyn Alistair, who was crying softly with her head buried against her knees, and put an arm around her.

"Hi there, welcome to Gryffindor. I'm Ginny," she said brightly, smiling at the others. "I'm a sixth-year. What are all your names?"

Seven pairs of eyes widened in shock.

After a moment, Neville cleared his throat, kneeling down beside Ginny. "I'm a seventh-year. My name's Neville. We're glad you're all here," he said, patting one curly-haired boy on the back.

Around the common room, heads were turning to see what was going on in the back corner.

At last, one tall, skinny boy with brown hair and a great deal of freckles spoke up. "I'm Carmichael Wallace," he said timidly, extending his hand to Ginny. "It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Carmichael," said Ginny, shaking his hand. She still had her arm around Evelyn Alistair, who had raised her head at last. "And you're Evelyn, aren't you?" Ginny asked. "You were the first one to get Sorted. That's a tricky job," she said.

Evelyn nodded, hiccupping slightly. "I-I-I thought-t H-Hogwarts was g-going t-to b-be diff-fferent," she managed, still shaking with suppressed sobs. "I-I just w-want to g-g-go home n-n-now," she wailed, as fresh tears spilled over and she hid her face again.

"Oh, now," said a voice behind Ginny. "Come on, cheer up. Hogwarts is fantastic!" Parvati sank down on her knees beside Evelyn and laid a gentle hand on her hair. Evelyn looked up, still crying.

Parvati smiled at her. "I'm Parvati," she said kindly. "I'm a seventh-year."

"Evelyn," said the little girl, shaking Parvati's hand.

There was, by now, a crowd of people gathered around the first-years.

"Come on," said Ginny, smiling at the others, who were looking less frightened. "Get to know everyone, we won't bite!"

The smallest of them all, a little girl who was even shorter than Evelyn, got up. She was round-faced and adorably chubby, with huge brown eyes under a mop of curly blond hair. She walked directly up to Neville and stuck out her hand.

"Hello, my name is Josephine O'Brien, and I'm very happy to be here," she said stoutly, shaking his hand firmly. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Seamus laughed, attracting Josephine's attention. "If that's not the greatest thing I've ever heard," he said, squeezing behind Ginny to shake Josephine's hand. "I'm Seamus Finnigan, girlie, and you're my new friend."

Josephine frowned, as though she were sizing him up. "We'll see about that," she said, turning her back firmly on him and resuming her conversation with Neville.

And just like that, the spell was broken. The Gryffindor common room roared to life as everyone greeted their newest classmates, and even introduced themselves to those older ones that they hadn't known before.

Ginny was smiling and laughing for the first time in ages, catching up with Demelza Robins and getting to know several first years; she was thrilled to see little Evelyn creeping out of her shell, giggling and chattering with Parvati, who seemed to be very attached to her. Before long, Ginny found herself sitting on a chess table, watching Seamus have a serious talk with Josephine O'Brien while Parvati held tiny little Evelyn on her lap, when the portrait hole swung open. No one else seemed to have noticed, however, for when Professor McGonagall had climbed through, she caught Ginny's eye and gestured for her to remain silent. She took a few steps forward, watching the older students play with the first-years, with a strange, thin-lipped smile spreading across her face.

Then she stepped forward into the firelight and cleared her throat. The chatter ceased immediately, and everyone turned to face her.

"Well," she said, looking down at the first-years. "Welcome to Gryffindor House." Josephine and Evelyn giggled where they stood with Parvati and Lavender. Professor McGonagall looked at the older students. "To the rest of you, welcome back. I am Professor McGonagall. I am your Head of House." She took a deep breath.

"First…and foremost…I wish to apologize for the vulgar display at the welcoming feast. I can promise you that nothing like it will happen again," she said in a hard voice. "However, to ensure that, I've been given several notices that I will affix to the notice board for your perusal. Please familiarize yourselves with these…safety precautions." She spat out the last words like vinegar. Then, she drew a deep breath. "Now, it is very late, and you all have classes in the morning. I will provide you with your timetables at breakfast. If I may ask for Mr. Longbottom, Miss Patil, Miss Weasley, Mr. Coote, Mr. Sloper, and Miss Robins to stay, the rest of you are dismissed. Good night."

There was a rumble of "good nights" and "see you laters" as the rest of the house headed for the dormitories. Evelyn was reluctant to let go of Parvati, but Lavender brought her along eventually, and soon there were only six who stood facing Professor McGonagall before the fire.

"As you all know, we are short several students this year," said Professor McGonagall, her beady eyes resting on Ginny for a moment before flickering to the others. "As such, I've had to select my prefects on rather short notice. Mr. Longbottom, Miss Patil, you will take over for Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Mr. Coote and Miss Weasley will take the places of Mr. Creevey and Miss O'Donnell, and Mr. Sloper and Miss Robins are our newest Gryffindor prefects." She took a breath. "Congratulations to you all. You may collect your badges in my office tomorrow afternoon."

Ginny glanced at the others, who all looked just as uncomfortable as she felt with this development. Taking Meghan's place, or Colin's…she might not have ever gotten on well with Meghan, but to take the prefect's badge was, for Ginny, like saying goodbye. It was truly shoving the Muggleborns out of Hogwarts. Ginny glanced at Parvati, who was looking slightly nauseated.

Professor McGonagall pressed her thin mouth together. "If there aren't any questions, then you are dismissed as well."

With mumbled words of gratitude, all six turned and headed for the stairs. Ginny had her foot on the bottom step when—

"Oh, Miss Weasley, wait a moment."

Slowly, Ginny turned and walked back to Professor McGonagall. "Yes, Professor?" she asked.

"Are you able to perform your duties with your brother ill?" Professor McGonagall asked warily. "I had no other student to ask, but I can go without a female prefect in the sixth year."

"No," Ginny said immediately. "No, I'll do my best, Professor." She smiled.

Professor McGonagall pressed her mouth into a very thin line, studying Ginny's face closely with her sharp eyes. "I think you will, Miss Weasley. Good night."

"Good night, Professor," said Ginny, and Professor McGonagall turned to leave. "Er—Professor?" Professor McGonagall stopped at the portrait hole. Ginny bit her lip. "Erm…he's safe. I'm fairly sure."

Professor McGonagall looked surprised for only a moment before quickly composing herself once again. She nodded curtly and hurried out of the portrait hole.

Ginny took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms before finally trudging up the stairs to bed. She quietly pushed open the door that said SIXTH YEARS, with a sign above it reading SEVENTH YEARS. She and Meghan O'Donnell had shared this room with Parvati, Lavender, and Hermione since their first year, a testament to how small their classes truly were, but somehow, Ginny was startled to find that only Parvati and Lavender were there, already in their beds and soundly sleeping. Ginny sighed and changed quickly into her nightgown, shivering in the unseasonable cold. She glanced out of the south window, unsurprised to see several dementors floating above the lake. Professor Dumbledore's tomb was just in her line of sight.

As she lay in her bed between Hermione's and Meghan's empty ones, looking at the ceiling of the dormitory that had been her home away from home for five years, Ginny was annoyed to find tears stinging her eyes. She rolled over and mashed her pillow into a more comfortable shape, burying her face in it.

_It's our school,_ she thought. _I want it back_.


	2. Chapter 2

"Very well, Miss Weasley, you're cleared for Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and Transfiguration," said Professor McGonagall, tapping Ginny's schedule with her wand so that the time blocks filled themselves in, and passing her the parchment.

"What about Astronomy?" Ginny asked, shocked. "I—I got an Outstanding."

"So you did," Professor McGonagall nodded, sighing imperceptibly. "I'm sorry, but with the requirements of Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'm afraid there won't be time."

"Oh," Ginny said quietly, looking down. "All right. Thanks, Professor."

Professor McGonagall nodded again and moved down the table to where Geoffrey Hooper was sitting with Ritchie Coote and the few other remaining boys of the sixth year.

"It's rather sad, isn't it?" asked a quiet voice from Ginny's left.

"Morning, Luna," she said, smiling. "What's sad?"

"They've driven everyone away," Luna told her, nodding at the staff table, where the Carrows sat, surveying the Great Hall. Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen. "We're missing five in Ravenclaw just in our year."

"Us too," Ginny said, looking at the many gaps in the Gryffindor table. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be at your table?" she asked Luna, glancing at the Carrows again. "We don't want another event like last night."

Luna nodded. "I think you're right," she said. "I only wanted to compare classes."

"Oh," said Ginny. "Here. I've got a free period this morning." She slid her timetable to Luna, who scanned it briefly.

"Excellent," Luna said brightly, passing it back. "I haven't, but we'll have enough class time together for you to keep me updated on everything you and Neville decide. I'll be the official Ravenclaw liaison," she said, beaming.

"You're not just a liaison, Luna," Ginny insisted. "You're as important as we are. And besides, we're not passing anything on."

"_Yet_," Luna grinned. "I'd better go sit down again, Professor Carrow looks a bit put out…"

"Which one?" Ginny smirked.

"Either," Luna answered dreamily as she wandered back to the Ravenclaw table.

Ginny smiled and shook her head, turning to a plate full of toast and helping herself.

"Have you seen these rules?" Neville asked, dropping into the seat opposite Ginny's.

"I never look at the notice board if I can help it," Ginny said nonchalantly, but she paused at the sight of Neville's face. "They can't be that bad."

"All I'll say is, it's a good thing we're already familiar with them," Neville said darkly, passing Ginny a leaflet.

"'Rules are effective as of the posting of this notice,'" Ginny read aloud. "'Any student found in noncompliance will be…' hang on…"

"Keep going," Neville said urgently.

"Th-that _snake_," Ginny gasped, when she had read the entire piece of parchment. "He—those are just—"

"He must've thought he could outsmart us by reinstating the old no club rule early," Neville said, shaking his head. "You were right, it's got to just be the three of us. They're really cracking down," he said. "This is really bad, Ginny."

"I know," Ginny snapped. She folded her hands over her mouth, staring up at the ceiling full of gray clouds. "Well, they can't get us for anything we haven't done. Even if they have an idea who we might be, they won't expect it if there's only three of us. For right now, we need as much information as we can get, and we need a way to communicate."

"I thought of that," Neville agreed. "What if we figured out how to send real messages with Hermione's Galleons? Not just numbers, you know?"

"All right," Ginny said. "Perfect, that sounds great."

"Luna and I'll get started on it later," Neville said. "She's the best with spells."

"Brilliant," Ginny said, beaming. "I'll bet nobody else even has theirs anymore."

"Seamus? Definitely not," Neville laughed, serving himself some eggs.

Ginny smiled, looking around the hall, where people were hurrying to pack their bags and go to class. She took a bite of her forgotten toast and faced Neville again. "What've you got first?" she asked.

"Double Muggle Studies," he said distastefully, standing up. "Two hours of making sure Seamus doesn't murder a teacher in front of the Slytherins."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Welcome back, I guess."

"See you later," said Neville, waving half-heartedly before leaving the table.

Ginny sighed. She looked up at the staff table, which was nearly empty. She decided to abandon her toast and make the most of her first free period by seeing whether or not Hagrid was teaching. She felt guilty; she had forgotten all about her anxiety at his absence the night before in light of everything that had happened with the Carrows and Professor McGonagall, but she now felt the need to make sure he was all right. She tugged on her cloak and left the Great Hall, following a cluster of fourth-year Ravenclaws on their way to Herbology. She broke away before they reached the greenhouses and headed for Hagrid's house on the edge of the forest.

She knocked on the door, hearing Fang's unmistakable bark.

"Who is it?" demanded a gruff voice on the other side of the door. "Back, Fang! What d'yeh want?"

"Hagrid, it's Ginny, open up," she called.

"Oh—_back_, Fang, _now_," said Hagrid's voice. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Ginny beamed up at Hagrid.

"Hi," she said, smiling slightly. "Can I come in?"

"Well, o'; course yeh can," Hagrid told her, pulling her into a bone-cracking hug. "How yeh bin, eh? Sorry I couldn' talk to yeh las' night."

"I'm fine," Ginny promised, patting Hagrid's elbow. "How are you?"

"All righ'," Hagrid grunted, stumping over to the fireplace and busying himself with the kettle. "Tryin' ter take care o' the nifflers for the fourth-years, they're all jittery with these ruddy dementors flappin' all over the grounds."

Ginny sat down, folding her cloak in her lap. "The dementors are the least of it. Have you met the Carrows?" she asked as Hagrid sat down opposite her and frowned.

"Why d'yeh think I wasn' at the feast with yeh?" he asked darkly.

"You're joking," Ginny said. "They didn't kick you out?"

"They got here yesterday an' informed me tha' they'd be seein' ter the first years," Hagrid grumbled. "An' then they said I shouldn' even bother comin' ter the feast." He fixed Ginny with a sharp glare. "Are they really…his?"

Ginny sighed and nodded. "That's what Harry said. Apparently they were…they were here in June."

Hagrid looked stunned. "Yeh're kiddin'."

"No," said Ginny. "But I don't know how much we should talk about it," she added. "They seem like the type that would want eyes and ears everywhere."

"Like I'd let 'em anywhere near here ter put up any charms like tha'," Hagrid scoffed, though he fell silent for a moment. Then he looked at Ginny again. "Have yeh heard from 'em?" he whispered.

"Well—er—Ron is—Ron's sick, so—" Ginny stammered.

"Nah, he's not," said Hagrid, chuckling and waving an enormous hand as he got up and went to the boiling teakettle. "I saw 'em leave the weddin'," he said, when Ginny still looked surprised. "Not too hard ter tell who it was with Ron an' Hermione, even if 'e was takin' Polyjuice Potion. Don' worry, I won' tell."

"No, I know," Ginny said, smiling. "It's just…" she dropped her voice. "Well, we haven't heard anything at all."

Hagrid poured two mugs of tea, looking thoughtful. "I s'pose it's better tha' way. Bes' for no one ter know where he is than have the wrong people know."

"Still, it'd be nice to have some confirmation or something," Ginny shrugged, looking into her mug.

Hagrid patted her shoulder comfortingly, almost knocking her out of her seat. "An' how are yeh, Ginny?" he asked, studying her closely. "Yeh look awful upset, yeh know."

"Oh." The knot of anger and fear in Ginny's stomach twisted unpleasantly. "Sorry. I just…it's nothing. I'm fine."

"Hm," Hagrid grumbled, still studying her. "Yeh know, Ginny, if yeh ever need anythin', yeh can come ter me. Whenever yeh want."

Ginny looked down at her hands, feeling her face grow hot. "Thanks, Hagrid," she mumbled, and he patted her shoulder again; she nearly hit her chin on the tabletop.

It was with a heavy heart that Ginny said goodbye an hour later and headed back to the castle alone, shuddering violently as she passed the dementors' barrier around the grounds. By the time she reached the entrance hall, it seemed she was running late, for there were only a few fifth-years hurrying up the stairs.

"Brilliant," she muttered, running after them for the third floor, where the Muggle Studies classroom was. She walked in to see all of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sixth-years already seated; the seat next to Luna was unoccupied, much to Ginny's relief.

"Weasley, innit?" demanded Alecto Carrow, her eyes narrowing unpleasantly at Ginny, who stood, frozen, on the threshold. She nodded once. "Take yer seat," Alecto growled. "Now."

Very calmly and slowly, without taking her eyes off of Alecto, Ginny walked to the empty desk beside Luna and sat down.

"Charming," Ginny muttered. Luna blinked calmly, keeping her gaze forward, but a vague smile crept onto her lips.

"Right," Alecto grumbled, "Now that we're all here, we c'n resume the lesson." She gave Ginny a particularly nasty look as she spoke. "In this class, yeh'll all be learnin' about Muggles." There was a round of quiet snickering that went around the room at this, but Alecto silenced it with a glare. She raised her wand and pointed it at her desk, where a stack of pamphlets floated into the air and began to distribute themselves to the students.

"'Mudbloods and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society'?" Ginny read aloud, before she could stop herself. She looked up at Alecto incredulously. "You must be joking."

"You got a problem, Weasley?" Alecto asked, stepping closer.

"If I do?" Ginny asked, lifting her chin slightly. "Surely it's not a requirement that I agree with the reading material?" she added disgustedly. Luna touched her arm, but Ginny pulled away, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Alecto's.

"It is in this classroom," Alecto growled, getting so close that Ginny could smell her sour breath.

"I'll keep that in mind, _Professor_," said Ginny, "For the next time you hand out your own version of the truth." Quiet muttering broke out across the room, and Luna squeezed Ginny's elbow. Ginny ignored her.

"And what would you know about it, eh?" Alecto demanded.

"More than you do," snapped Ginny, feeling a flicker of the pent-up anger inside her heart starting to force itself out.

Alecto's hand flew to her wand, and there was a collective gasp from everyone as she held it just inches from Ginny's face.

"It's only the first day, Professor," Ginny said quietly through gritted teeth. "What are you going to do to shut me up tomorrow?"

Breathing heavily, Alecto lowered her wand. She threw Ginny one last dirty look and then glared at the rest of the sixth-years. "Well, what're you all staring at?" she barked. "Open them pamphlets and start readin'!" She stumped back up to the front of the classroom.

Ginny scowled, looking down at the pamphlet before her and flipped it over, deciding to ignore the cover image of a revolting, sickly-sweet-faced rose and a fanged weed attempting to strangle it.

"Ginny," Luna said quietly, without turning her head. "Read it."

Ginny looked at her incredulously. "Why?" she whispered. "I'm not reading this rubbish—"

"Just look," Luna said out of the corner of her mouth. "You won't believe it."

Glancing up at Alecto, who had seated herself at her desk and was glowering unpleasantly at the class, Ginny opened the booklet and began to read.

_Few things have been more detrimental to the development, evolution, and success of wizardkind than the all-too-common practice of fraternization with Muggles; worse yet is the casual acceptance modern wizard society has for those members of the magical community who mate with Muggles. Leading minds of our day and age urge us now not to allow such activities to take place, for the introduction of non-magical beings poses many threats to the safety and security of any sensible wizarding family. First and foremost among these threats are:_

_MUDBLOODS_

_A Mudblood, that is to say, a Muggle who has been introduced into magical society, is a being who has taken advantage of the overlarge connections between magical and non-magical peoples, and has successfully stolen the magic of a worthy witch or wizard. These beings are not witches or wizards, and should never be treated as such. The Ministry of Magic, effective immediately, has placed a high priority on apprehending these thieves of magical learning. Should you or anyone you know wish to report such a criminal, you may contact the Muggle-Born Registration Commission—_

Ginny closed her eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath. The boiling anger and frustration she had felt for over a month was building up inside her, and she wasn't sure she could keep a handle on it for very much longer. She felt her fist clench on the tabletop, and turned to Luna.

"What was that Hermione once said about the _Daily Prophet_?" Luna whispered. "'It's best to know what the enemy are saying.'" Ginny nodded, and Luna sighed quietly. "I rather wish I didn't, just the same."

"Oi, no talking, you two!" barked Alecto suddenly.

Ginny bit back a retort and faced front, hitching a brilliant smile onto her face. "We were only wondering—will this be homework, Professor Carrow?" she asked pleasantly.

"It will," Alecto growled warily.

Ginny nodded, picking up her quill and making an exaggerated note on the parchment before her. "And just out of curiosity," she added, "Will we always be assigned bigoted Death Eater rubbish in this class, or will we break it up now and then with a guest lesson from You-Know-Who himself?"

"Ginny," Luna whispered under her breath, as gasps of shock—and, yes, a giggle or two—sounded all around her.

Alecto had leapt to her feet. Her face was blotchy and scarlet with anger. "That's a detention, Weasley! And you'll learn ter keep a civil tongue in this class if ya know what's good for ya!"

"Then I'm sorry to say I won't be getting very good marks in Muggle Studies, Professor," Ginny said coolly.

"That ain't the only mark you'll be worrying about, missy," Alecto snapped, standing up. Ginny stood as well, not removing her eyes from Alecto's, fully aware of her classmates' gazes fixed on her. Alecto stared at her for a moment, her lip twitching, before she barked suddenly, "Five handwritten copies a' this pamphlet by next class, or it's detention for all a' ya! Now get outta my sight, ev'ryone—'cept for Weasley here."

There was a mad rush to escape the classroom as quickly as possible, but Ginny didn't break eye contact with Alecto until Luna was the only one left. She stood in the doorway, staring at Ginny.

"I'll be okay, Luna," said Ginny. "I'll see you in just a moment," she added, staring sharply at Alecto.

"G'wan, get out," Alecto barked, flicking her wand. The door slammed shut, shoving Luna out into the hallway, and Ginny was left alone, standing at her desk as she stared to the front of the classroom, where Alecto was licking her lips. "Right, Weasley," Alecto growled. "I've heard all about ya, and I'm here ta tell ya that everything's different now."

"You've got that right," Ginny snorted.

"This ain't yer school anymore," snapped Alecto. "It's ours. And the sooner ya fall in line and quit yer games, the sooner we'll all be—"

"You're right again, congratulations," Ginny said loudly. "This isn't my school. At _my_ Hogwarts, we don't let Death Eaters and murderers masquerade as teachers."

"Ya think yer clever, eh?" Alecto demanded. "Why don't we see about that tonight? Yeh'll have yer detention in the dungeons. Be there after dinner."

"Gladly," said Ginny, scooping up her bag, quill, and parchment. Without another word, she marched to the front of the classroom and reached into her bag for the pamphlet. She took one last look at the cover before tossing it into the rubbish bin and slamming the door behind her.

Ginny stormed through the rest of her day in an incredibly foul mood. She sat in the back row of all of her classes, barely paying attention to a word anyone said to her.

Worst of all, though, was a feeling of dread that had burrowed its way into the back of her mind and refused to leave. She couldn't shake the feeling that she might have gotten herself into a great deal more trouble than she could handle by deciding to take on Alecto Carrow. The fear and anger took up all of her attention and focus, and by the time Transfiguration came around, her last class before her detention, Ginny's head was filled with poisonous thoughts and hatred for the Carrows.

"Miss Weasley. _Miss Weasley!_"

Ginny started, surprised to see Professor McGonagall standing over her.

"The class has ended," she said. "I have dismissed you."

"Oh," Ginny stammered, looking around at the empty desks. "I'm sorry, Professor. I—"

"Never mind," said Professor McGonagall. "Although I've half a mind to give you a detention for not paying attention to a word I've said."

"No, Professor," Ginny said quickly. "I'm sorry, I was just…I was distracted. It won't happen again."

Something in Professor McGonagall's face seemed to soften. "Very well," she said. "But I'd like to see a little more diligence in the classroom. Do you understand?"

"Of course," said Ginny apologetically. "I'll go to dinner now, Professor."

"Wait a moment," Professor McGonagall said, reaching into her pocket. "Here. Take your badge." She produced a scarlet and gold badge emblazoned with a large P.

"Thank you, Professor," Ginny mumbled, staring at it in her palm.

"I'll pass along a schedule and a list of your duties in a week or so," said Professor McGonagall, and Ginny nodded. "Is everything—well, are you all right, Miss Weasley?"

"Fine, Professor," Ginny said, smiling suddenly. "I'd better get to dinner." She hurriedly bent and scooped up her bag, dashing out of the classroom before Professor McGonagall could say another word.

When she had made it to the Great Hall, Ginny was unsurprised to see Neville waiting for her, looking very agitated.

"Do you really have detention tonight?" he demanded the moment she sat down.

"Yes," Ginny answered testily.

"Ginny," Neville groaned.

"What?" she asked sharply. "I'm not allowed to have a problem with the ridiculous things they're forcing us to read? I thought you wanted us collecting information. This seems like a pretty good way."

"We don't know what they'll do to you," he said.

"Only one way to find out," Ginny told him. Neville looked downcast, and she reached out to touch his arm. "Look, they'll probably just try to scare me out of causing more trouble in class. They won't do anything drastic."

"Says you," Neville mumbled.

Ginny shook her head. "For once, I'm really glad I'm pureblood, Neville. And you should be, too. You-Know-Who won't want to murder the people he thinks he can win over, will he?"

Neville wrinkled his nose at the word "murder," but sighed. "I guess not."

Ginny smiled. "I'll see you back in the common room tonight and give you an update on what they're up to."

"That reminds me," he said suddenly. "Did you get the _Daily Prophet_ this morning?"

"Yeh—no," Ginny said, with sudden realization. "No, I didn't."

"Nor did anybody else," said Neville.

Ginny frowned and looked up at the staff table, where Alecto Carrow was watching the hall with beady eyes. "Do you think they're stopping news?"

"Well, I know they're opening letters and packages," said Neville. "Gran sent me a jumper I left behind, and the whole thing was nearly destroyed, and the note had definitely been read."

"Yes, but stopping the newspaper?" Ginny asked incredulously.

Neville shrugged. "Luna already had her _Quibbler_ taken away on the train, remember?"

Ginny slammed her fork and knife down on the table, startling Neville. "Really?" she demanded. "Really, this is how it's going to be now? This is it? We're just going to sit by while they open our mail, and destroy our school, and—and—"

"Ginny," Neville said slowly, "We knew it would come down to this if Harry left—"

"He hasn't left!" she almost shouted. "He hasn't left, don't say that—he's just—he's somewhere else, he's fighting somewhere else."

"I know," Neville said calmingly, trying to get her to lower her voice. "But the fact is that he's not with us right now, and we've got to get used to it."

Ginny took a deep breath. "I know," she said in a low voice, staring down at the tabletop. "I know."

But it was in a very foul mood that Ginny left the Gryffindor table and made the trek down into the dungeons. A level below the normal Potions classroom, she came across one of the doors standing open to a room where spare desks and chairs were kept. Deciding that it was her best shot, Ginny walked into the small dungeon to see both Carrows waiting for her, identical idiotic, malevolent grins on their faces as they stood amid a clutter of desks.

She felt a sudden, irrepressible wave of fear, and narrowed her eyes.

"Weasley, eh?" asked Amycus, flicking his wand. The door banged shut, but Ginny did not flinch.

"Where's yer stinking little gang of nasties now?" demanded Alecto, walking a slow circle around Ginny. "Think ye can just say anything ye like in my classroom? Think ye still run this school? I got news for you, girlie—you, an' all yer Order of the Phoenix friends are nothin'. We make the rules now. Dumbledore's gone, an' we're in charge."

Ginny gave an involuntary shiver of revulsion at the stink of Alecto's breath, coupled with her overwhelming fear at the revelation that the Carrows knew exactly who Ginny and all her family were—_how?_

Amycus gave a harsh laugh. "Not so brave, now, eh?"

And a bubble of hatred popped inside Ginny's heart, filling her with a flicker of confidence. "Try me," she spat.

"Ooh-hoo-hoo," cackled Alecto. "Such a temper on the little ginger."

Ginny narrowed her eyes fiercely.

"Yer brother really got spattergroit?" Amycus demanded, coming close to Ginny with his wand drawn.

"Yes," Ginny said.

"Onna 'counta we heard that he's a real good friend of Harry Potter," said Alecto, with an evil smile.

"My brother is at home, very sick," Ginny said coldly. "And I haven't seen Harry Potter since last June."

Amycus prodded his wand up beneath her chin. "Ye lyin'?"

Ginny forced herself to meet his eyes. "No, _Professor_."

"Ferget it," Alecto muttered after several beats of silence. "We got time to get it out of 'er. Let's—"

"Ah, right," Amycus said, with a foul smile. "Yer our first detention, Weasley. Didja know ye'd be settin' an example?"

Ginny raised her chin, refusing to betray fear.

"We got special permission ta use whatever we need ta punish ye," said Alecto, drawing her wand. "Take 'er wand."

Amycus reached for Ginny's pocket, but she jerked away, closing her fingers around the handle. Her heart was pounding as both Carrows aimed their wands at her. Then, knowing she had no choice, she drew her own wand, and Amycus snatched it, tossing it onto a broken desk in the corner.

Before Ginny could say anything, Amycus slashed his wand through the air. "_Crucio!_"

Pain like she had never felt ripped through Ginny's stomach. She dropped immediately to the floor, biting down hard. She fought to stay rigid, not to scream, but it was becoming difficult—and then the pain was gone. She lay curled on the floor, shaking and sweating, as Amycus stepped over her, chuckling.

"Ye wanna be careful," he wheezed. "Fallin' on the floor like that, ye could hurt yerself." Ginny glared back hatefully.

"_Crucio_," Alecto said lightly, and the pain was a million times worse—Ginny thrashed back involuntarily, banging her knee sharply on a nearby desk and hitting her head on another. When Alecto lifted the curse this time, Ginny could feel blood trickling down her temple. Her knee felt like it had split open, but she didn't dare look at it—she was nauseated enough already.

"How's that?" asked Alecto, hunching down so that she was right beside Ginny's face. "Weren't expectin' that, eh?"

"What?" Ginny panted. "An illegal curse—from—Death Eaters? Couldn't _possibly_—have—imagined…"

Alecto's face twisted in fury, and she raised her wand again. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, curling into a tight ball—

"Amycus! Alecto!"

The dungeon door banged open, admitting Snape, his black robes billowing around him. He looked enraged, and held up what looked to Ginny like a newspaper.

"What, Snape?" Alecto whined, clearly upset that she had been stopped.

Snape's black eyes flickered over Ginny, who was pulling herself into a sitting position on the floor. "Never mind her," he said. "Weasley, get out of here. _Now_." Ginny froze, staring between Snape and the Carrows. Alecto gaped angrily. "Now, Weasley, _now_!" Snape barked.

Wincing, Ginny pulled herself up on a desk. She spotted her wand still lying on the broken table in the corner and snatched it quickly before limping out of the room. Her mind was racing as she quickly made her decision; she ducked into a small alcove and strained to listen to the conversation happening inside the dungeon.

"—What's this mean? _Potter—_"

"It means, Carrow, that Potter may very well be headed here," Snape growled.

"How's that?" demanded Alecto.

"The Dark Lord has reason to believe the boy will try to enter Hogwarts, and this…_resurgence_…indicates that he is correct."

"You spoke to him?" asked Amycus.

There were several beats of silence.

"We will return to my office now and prepare for a possible break-in," Snape said coldly. "Come."

Ginny crammed herself back into the shadows and watched as Snape swept out of the dungeon, followed by the Carrows. She could see the newspaper sticking out of Alecto's pocket. She quickly fumbled with her wand and whispered, "_Wingardium Leviosa._"

The newspaper floated out of Alecto's pocket and hovered near the stairs leading out of the dungeon. Satisfied that Snape and the Carrows were gone, Ginny limped forward and seized it, unrolling it to the front page. Her heart jumped into her throat.

UNDESIRABLE No. 1 LEADS MINISTRY BREAK-IN; ESCAPES ARREST

Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a burst of nervous laughter. Harry's picture was emblazoned across the front page, captioned with _Undesirable No. 1: Harry James Potter_. Quickly, she folded the newspaper and stuffed it in an inner pocket. Gritting her teeth against the pounding pain in her leg, she began the climb up the nine flights of stairs back to Gryffindor Tower. At long last, she reached the Fat Lady.

"Billywig!" she gasped, and the painting swung open. With monumental effort, she dragged herself through the portrait hole.

"Ginny!"

"Neville," she panted. "Shh—ow, ow!"

"Merlin's beard, what did they do to you?"

Ginny felt Neville seize her under the arms and help her into a chair by the fire. She looked around; the common room was mostly dark. It seemed that with the early curfew, everyone had gone up to bed.

"Ow!" she cried, as Neville's fingers prodded the cut on her forehead.

"You need Madam Pomfrey," he said, looking vaguely nauseated.

"No," Ginny muttered. "That's not bad—it's my knee that's hurt—but Neville, listen," she began, reaching into her pocket.

"I think I can fix this one," he said, not paying attention. He bit his lip, looking nervous as he held his wand. "If you'll let me."

Ginny met his eyes. "Okay, fine," she said impatiently. "But Neville, _listen_."

"Hold still, Ginny—"

"Neville! Harry broke into the Ministry of Magic!"

Neville stopped and stared at her. "What?"

Ginny pulled out the _Daily Prophet_ and unfurled the headline. Neville took the paper, dropping into a chair, his jaw hanging open.

"'Harry Potter, Undesirable Number One, evaded law enforcement officials today in the Ministry of Magic, aided by two unknown accomplices posing as Ministry officials. Says Madam Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and Head of the…Muggleborn…' oh, bloody hell," Neville groaned.

"They escaped," Ginny said, beaming.

"They attacked Umbridge," said Neville, scanning the article.

"Even better," said Ginny. "And listen—Snape's been talking to You-Know-Who—I swiped this from him, when he burst in and ended my detention—but You-Know-Who is scared stiff that Harry's going to come _here_, to Hogwarts!"

"Why would he do that?" Neville asked skeptically.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "But now we have news. We have something to go on. If Snape's scared that Harry's going to break into the castle—"

"Then maybe we should help him break in," Neville said, catching on.

Ginny nodded, sitting back. "You've got it. We just need to find out how many of Fred and George's secret passages they've found, and then find a way to tell Harry." She felt so jittery and alive with excitement that she'd nearly forgotten about her injured knee—then she moved it and winced.

"Let's see that," Neville said, and Ginny lifted back her robe. A very deep wound was oozing blood down her leg. She touched it gingerly and winced again.

"How did you get up here like this?" Neville asked incredulously, kneeling before her.

Ginny shook her head. Now that she had seen the cut, it had begun to hurt very badly.

"Well, I can do the one on your forehead, it's just a small one," he said, standing up and drawing his wand. "Will you let me?"

"I trust you." Ginny closed her eyes and felt the tip of Neville's wand touch her hairline. It burned hot for a moment, and she winced, but a moment later it stopped, and she reached up a hand and very gingerly touched the spot where the cut had been—it had vanished, leaving only a slightly tender bump behind. "That's much better, Neville, thanks."

"No problem," Neville said, looking relieved as he handed her a handkerchief, and she dabbed at the trickle of blood on the side of her face. "But this one…it's serious," he said, examining her knee again in the firelight. "I'm going to get McGonagall. What did you do?"

Ginny grabbed his arm. "No—I fell, it was my own fault. They let me go, and I fell on my way up the stairs. Don't bother McGonagall, she'll just get in more trouble if they think she's letting students ignore curfew."

Neville looked mistrustful. "You're not telling me the truth."

"Neville, I'm fine, just—just use that spell you did on my forehead, I'm fine," Ginny insisted.

"Gin, Luna taught me that charm to stop _parchment cuts_ from hurting, not real wounds. You need the hospital wing, at the least," he said firmly.

"No, Neville," Ginny said. "I'm not going to set the Carrows on McGonagall's case _or_ Pomfrey's because of me being clumsy."

"You're not clumsy, you're lying again," Neville said loudly, standing up. Ginny was startled, and seeing this, Neville took a deep breath. "Okay, look, you definitely need the hospital wing. I'll get you help, and then tomorrow, first thing, you're telling me what happened to you."

Ginny stared at him for a moment. Then she reached out and touched his hand. "Okay, Neville. Okay," she said. "Go get McGonagall."

"Ginny?" She looked over her shoulder. Little Evelyn Alistair stood at the foot of the stairs in a violet bathrobe, wearing a frown. "Are you all right?" Evelyn asked.

Ginny smiled. "I'm fine, Evelyn, thank you," she said.

"Are you hurt?"

Ginny glanced up at Neville and tugged her robes to cover her knee. "I—er—I fell and cut my knee on the stairs."

"Are you helping her?" Evelyn asked Neville immediately.

He didn't seem to be able to repress a smile. "I was just going to get Professor McGonagall."

"I'll keep you company, Ginny," said Evelyn, marching over to the sofa and sitting down as Neville grinned at Ginny and hurried out of the portrait hole. "Can I see?" Evelyn asked, leaning over.

"No, no," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. "It's rather nasty."

Evelyn nodded. "I've got three younger brothers. Nothing is nastier than the things they do to themselves."

Ginny laughed. "I know what you mean. I've got six older brothers."

"No," Evelyn said, looking shocked. "I don't think I could handle that."

Ginny smiled, but winced slightly.

"Does it hurt?" Evelyn asked sympathetically.

"No, I'm fine," Ginny lied. "You should go back up to bed. I'll be fine here."

"I can't sleep," said Evelyn, looking around the common room. "It's too early."

Ginny frowned. "Are you sure?"

Evelyn nodded, though she was still looking at the bookshelves. "Just not tired," she said. Silence fell for a few moments.

"Are you still homesick, Evelyn?" asked Ginny, and Evelyn blinked rapidly and shook her head. "It's okay if you are. I'm homesick, too. I miss my brothers and my parents like mad."

Evelyn faced her, brown eyes swimming with tears. "You do?"

Ginny's heart felt like it was breaking into a million tiny pieces. She sat forward and patted Evelyn's hand. "All the time."

"Miss Weasley."

Ginny turned around to see Professor McGonagall and Neville climbing through the portrait hole. "Professor," she said, trying to smile. "I'm sorry if we bothered you—"

"Off to bed, please, Miss Alistair," said Professor McGonagall to Evelyn, who immediately hopped up and scurried away up the stairs. Professor McGonagall came to face Ginny, frowning. "What happened, Miss Weasley? Longbottom said you had a detention. It is the first day of class."

"Oh," Ginny stammered, glancing at Neville. "Well, I was—doing lines, for Professor Carrow—"

"Lines," Professor McGonagall repeated, her eyebrows contracting sharply.

"Yes, lines," Ginny said. "I was coming back, and I guess I wasn't being careful on the stairs. I slipped," she said, pulling back her robes again to reveal her injury.

Professor McGonagall's frown deepened, but she quickly recovered herself. "We'll talk about Professor Carrow and your detention later," she said briskly. "For now, can you walk? We'll take you to Madam Pomfrey. Longbottom, help her up—that's it."

* * *

Later that night, as Ginny lay in the hospital wing with her knee bandaged and healing nicely thanks to Madam Pomfrey, she reached into her pocket and withdrew the folded-up newspaper. She picked up her wand and lit it, studying Harry's face. _Two unknown accomplices_…that had to be Ron and Hermione, she thought. She had read the article a dozen times, looking for more clues, but couldn't find anything.

Quietly, she ripped out Harry's picture and folded it up, tucking it safely in the pocket of her robes, which lay folded on her bedside table. Then she turned on her side and hoped, wherever they had escaped to, that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were safe.

Just as she started to drift off to sleep, wondering why on earth Snape could possibly have thought Harry was on his way to Hogwarts, a memory floated through her mind; an overheard conversation in Ron's room the night before Bill's wedding…a sudden idea struck.

"The sword," she whispered to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

"Don't you see?" Ginny asked. "The reason Snape was so angry was because he thought Harry was going to come here next to take the sword." She, Luna, and Neville stood together in the courtyard at break, one of the only times they had to talk to each other. She had just left the hospital wing that morning and sought out Neville and Luna immediately.

"Why would he steal a sword?" Luna asked.

"The sword of Gryffindor?" Neville asked incredulously. "The one in Dumbledore's office?"

Ginny nodded. "Listen," she said, lowering her voice. "Over the summer, Rufus Scrimgeour came to our house to talk to Harry, Ron, and Hermione."

"Why?" Neville asked.

"I still don't know," Ginny said, shaking her head. "But it had something to do with Dumbledore, and the sword. I definitely heard them talking about it the night before my brother's wedding."

"His will," said Luna, with sudden realization. Ginny and Neville stared at her. "The Ministry of Magic must have been holding his will. They're allowed to withhold the contents of a witch or wizard's will for a maximum of thirty days if they have reason to believe that the things being passed along are Dark or dangerous. Daddy did a piece on it once…"

"Dumbledore wouldn't pass along anything like that," Ginny said indignantly, but Luna shook her head.

"Of course not, but he wasn't very popular with the Ministry at the time he died, was he?" she asked. "And anyway, they don't need proof that the things are dangerous, only a belief that they are. It's really a brilliant loophole, you see. There's no penalty if they say they're wrong—_after_ they thoroughly examine everything."

"So—wait—you're saying that Rufus Scrimgeour decided to hang onto the stuff Dumbledore left behind, just for the fun of it?" Neville asked. "What's that got to do with Harry _or_ the sword of Gryffindor?"

"Well, obviously Professor Dumbledore left Harry something in his will," Luna said, waving a hand dismissively. "But I think he must have tried to give them the sword as well." She put a hand to her chin, thinking hard. "I can't imagine why…"

Ginny, meanwhile, was staring at her. "One day, Luna, I will make you sit down with Hermione, and you two can just riddle out the universe together while the rest of us watch."

Luna wrinkled her nose slightly. "Don't be silly, Hermione would hate that," she said. She reached for Ginny's jaw suddenly, preventing any speech. "Now, coming back to you…what are we going to do about that bruise?" Though Neville had taken care of the cut, a rather dark, ugly bruise had spread from the spot where Ginny had been cut on her forehead. She'd had no explanation for Madam Pomfrey, and the matron had released her, albeit reluctantly.

"Mm," Ginny mumbled, reaching into her pocket to produce a small pot labeled 'Blemish Remover'; she'd fetched it from her trunk before class.

"Fred and George?" Neville asked with a chuckle. Ginny grinned as Luna dabbed the blemish paste onto the bruise. "And—hang on—" he looked accusingly at Ginny, as though she had intentionally distracted them. "You never told me how you got beaten up in the first place. You promised you'd tell me this morning."

"I've been wondering that myself," Luna said lightly.

Ginny swallowed. "Well, like I said yesterday…it's lucky I'm a pure-blood," she said with a reluctant laugh.

"I beg your pardon?" Neville demanded. "What does that mean?"

"Did the Carrows hurt you?" Luna asked softly.

"I…well, technically, I wasn't lying," Ginny said to Neville. "I did fall, and I hurt my own knee. I fell and cut it on a desk. And I hit my head, too."

"Ginny," Neville said warningly, and she glared at him.

"Detention means they use the Cruciatus Curse on you," she said in a low voice.

Luna's eyes widened. "Surely not—"

"Why would I lie about that?" Ginny snapped suddenly, furious. Then she glanced at Neville, who looked sickened, and checked herself. "It's…it's not as bad as it could be. They're not…I dunno…serious about it. They just want to make the point, they're not interested in really hurting—"

"Don't," Neville muttered, closing his eyes. "I don't want to hear." Luna sighed, placing a hand on his arm.

"We're lucky you're all right," she said softly to Ginny, who nodded, staring down at her feet. She felt horrible. In worrying so much about herself, she had somehow forgotten about Neville's possible reaction to the news that torture would be the new standard for punishment.

Luna looked between Ginny and Neville, who was looking anywhere but Ginny's face. "We're going to make it," she said quietly. "We're all going to be fine."

* * *

Within two days, despite the Carrows' very obvious attempts to stop all news from reaching the students, it seemed that everyone had heard the story of Harry's break-in at the Ministry. While the rumors might, at one point, have been a bolster for the confidence of those few who were still publicly staunch supporters of Harry, Ginny was annoyed to find that they quickly dissolved into useless gossip. She overheard several people discussing Harry's attempt to murder the Minister of Magic, a pack of Hufflepuffs talking about his dramatic escape on the back of a Hungarian Horntail, and worst of all, one Ravenclaw girl assuring another that the entire thing was an elaborate hoax, designed to capture Harry once and for all.

It was rumors like this last one that proved the most problematic; it became clear to Ginny within a couple of days that very few people believed that Harry was even alive, let alone hiding out somewhere. At any rate, the general consensus among the students was that he was gone, and gone for good.

The Carrows, meanwhile, used this atmosphere of relative despondency to tighten their hold over students and staff. Detention as Ginny had suffered it, it seemed, was to be the standard. Though no one had yet come forward, to her knowledge, and given the Carrows up, she had noticed the other professors trying very hard to avoid doling out detentions. This was proving difficult, in light of the seemingly constant presence of either one or both Carrows. Ginny could feel the professors' tension in every single lesson.

It didn't help that after just a few short weeks of term, Alecto Carrow, who seemed to have more intelligence than her brutish brother, had instituted more than half of Professor Umbridge's old rules. Mail was routinely stopped and checked, curfew was earlier than ever, and a teacher escorted every class from room to room. This last one was especially annoying, for it meant that Luna, Ginny, and Neville didn't even have the ability to talk between lessons; if they did find a free moment or two, they could be sure that within minutes, the shadow of at least one Carrow would descend.

Before long, Ginny's only happy moments came with the occasional letter from her brothers or her parents. Charlie wrote the most often; he was painfully sick of being cooped up in the Burrow. Ginny knew he had found it too difficult to return to Romania, where he was too far from his family (though he maintained that his extended stay was due only to an opportune transfer to a job in England).

Bill and Fleur, it seemed, were having as much of a honeymoon as was possible, and the twins were still running the joke shop as best they could. They couldn't share news thanks to the Carrows' interference with the mail, but before long, even just a note in her mother's handwriting, or that of one of her brothers, was enough to make Ginny stop worrying about them, even if only for a little while.

Ginny hadn't had another detention, and hadn't told anyone in her family what had been going on, but she certainly noticed that it was much more common for a Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor to turn up in class with a minor, unexplained injury than it was for a Slytherin to do the same. After the fiasco of their first day in Muggle Studies, Luna seemed to become especially determined to stop her from getting in trouble again, though this was rather difficult.

It turned out that _Mudbloods and the Dangers they Pose to a Perfect Pure-Blood Society_ was the least of the material they were to be exposed to, and Ginny was having a hard time restraining herself from shouting at Alecto again. Her anger had bubbled dangerously close to the surface for the entire term, and without the outlets of Quidditch, writing to her parents, or even spending time with her friends, she had had no way to calm down.

One afternoon in late October, Ginny sat with Luna in the library, working on a Transfiguration essay. Or, at least, Ginny was working. Luna had been frowning into space for nearly ten minutes.

"We need to find a better way than just word-of-mouth," she whispered suddenly.

Ginny looked up. "A better way for what?"

"News," Luna said. "By the time that the rumors about what's happening out there finally reach us, they're so overgrown that no one believes them. Then they stop talking. If they stop talking, then they stop listening, and _then_ they stop believing the truth, and if that happens, then we might as well hand the school over to the Carrows." As she spoke, a fevered, excited look began to build in her eyes.

Ginny blinked, a little taken aback. "Well…how do we circulate news without word-of-mouth, even when there _is_ news to report?"

"Well, I was thinking about that," Luna whispered excitedly. "What if we had a kind of newsletter? Something that we could put out ourselves?"

"Go on," Ginny said, tilting her head to one side curiously.

"You're an excellent writer," said Luna. "You could write something that we could copy and hand out to everyone we know."

Ginny frowned, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "It's an idea," she agreed. "That could cause a lot of trouble for people, though. What if people started rumors about Dumbledore's Army being back?"

"What if they did?" Luna asked. "It is, in a way! I know you and Neville don't agree, Ginny, but I don't think this all-alone plan is working. I still think we need to arrange a meeting of the old D.A. _Especially_ if we're serious about the plans to go after the sword in Professor Snape's office."

Ginny sighed, exasperated. "Luna, I keep telling you, it's better if it's just the three of us for now. We don't know who we can trust, especially after the Carrows gave detention to those Hufflepuffs last week. We might end up getting more people in detention if anyone else knows or gets caught helping us."

"What about Seamus and the others, though?" Luna asked. "The Gryffindors would never betray us, but they wouldn't forgive us if we left them out. I know they wouldn't."

"Maybe not, but Neville and I agreed, we're keeping the whole sword plan secret. Just the three of us," Ginny insisted, fixing Luna with a sharp gaze.

Luna shook her head. "Well, there are plenty of Ravenclaws who keep asking me if there are any plans to bring back the D.A. I think if people want to fight, they should have that choice."

"I'm not saying you're wrong, Luna," said Ginny, though was getting rather annoyed. "But I think that for just this one time, we should keep it secret."

Luna nodded and resumed writing her essay.

Ginny tapped her foot impatiently, watching Luna write for several moments. She let out an exasperated sigh. "What?" Luna looked up. Ginny stared at her, one eyebrow raised in irritation. "You've obviously got something to say, Luna. What is it?"

"I haven't got anything to say, Ginny," said Luna, frowning slightly.

"You think we're being stupid," Ginny said, exasperated.

"I don't think you're stupid," Luna began.

"That's not what I said," Ginny snapped. Then she looked over her shoulder, checking for Madam Pince. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Luna. I just…it feels safer to do it alone. Just the three of us, you know? I've got a horrible feeling that if more people try to help, they'll end up getting hurt."

"I understand, Ginny," Luna said honestly. "I trust you and Neville to make choices like this."

"I—It's not just me and Neville!" Ginny spluttered, irritated again. "You have as much say—"

Luna shook her head, smiling. "It's all right. Really."

"I—well—you—" Ginny made a noise of irritation and picked up her quill, returning her focus to her essay.

"Psst."

Ginny looked up at Luna, who seemed confused.

"Psst."

"Neville?" Luna asked, standing up and peering around a bookshelf.

"Shh," Neville said, coming out of the shadows. "I just had to tell you—Seamus is in detention again. He mouthed off to Carrow."

Ginny had gotten up and come over. "Well, what else is new?" she asked darkly.

Neville shook his head grimly. "It's bad this time. Carrow didn't even dismiss the class, he just dragged Seamus out. None of us have seen him since."

"What did he say?" Luna asked.

"Same old," Neville shrugged. "Called Carrow a Death Eater, started shouting."

Ginny sighed. "He's got to calm down. He's going to get himself killed, he's a half-blood."

"We're about to do much worse," Neville reminded her.

Luna looked between them for a moment. "We should plan it for tomorrow," she said at last. "I think we might as well, if no one else is helping us. At the very least, if we get caught—"

"If we get caught—" Neville began, shocked.

"We'd take their attention off Seamus," Ginny said softly, staring at Luna with admiration.

"Exactly," said Luna, smiling. "We ought to take responsibility for ourselves, if we're all that's really left of the D.A."

Neville nodded and looked at Ginny. "D'you think we can do it?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged. "There's always something that can go wrong, right? We've been planning for ages, and we're either going to do it or we're not. And no matter what, it's going to feel fantastic to just do something, really get at them, you know?"

Luna beamed. "Lovely."

The next day seemed to rush past Ginny in a great whirlwind of anticipation. She kept running through the plan in her head, making lists and ticking off items one by one. By the time she and Luna went to Transfiguration, the last class before Muggle Studies, Ginny was practically beside herself with excitement. Luna kept touching her arm to make her stop bouncing with eagerness.

"All right, that's enough for today," said Professor McGonagall, closing the textbook on her desk at the end of the period. "Pass up your mice to—ah, Mr. Hooper, please, if you haven't finished. If I've checked your eggcup, return it to my desk, and all of you line up at the door for Muggle Studies."

Ginny quickly packed her bag and carried her eggcup to the front of the room, catching Luna's eye. She nodded briefly and headed for the line of students by the door.

As they all trooped silently to the Muggle Studies classroom, Professor McGonagall in the lead, Luna shot a sideways glance at Ginny. When they had safely passed the stairs that led up to the seventh floor, Ginny nodded at Luna, who took a breath.

"Professor McGonagall!" she called, and the line stopped as Professor McGonagall turned.

"What is it, Miss Lovegood?" she asked rather impatiently.

"I've left something in the classroom—my book for Muggle Studies," said Luna. "May I please go back and get it?"

Professor McGonagall looked exasperated. The Carrows were especially harsh on latecomers, and with good reason, Ginny thought privately. They were probably afraid of exactly what she and Luna were about to do.

"I'll go with her, Professor, and we'll catch up in just a moment," piped up Ginny.

"Be quick," Professor McGonagall warned. "I'll explain to Professor Carrow."

"Thank you," Luna chimed, as Ginny grabbed her wrist and hurried back the way they had come.

"Okay," said Ginny as they hurried to the staircase up to the seventh floor. She checked her watch. "In three minutes, Neville's going to set off the Decoy Detonators in Dark Arts. That's about the time our class will get to Muggle Studies. With any luck, Snape will come running and we can get into the office."

"Right," Luna told her. "The class is gone," she said, peering off in the direction in which their classmates had just disappeared. "Ready?"

"Ready," said Ginny, grinning broadly.

They hurried together up the stairs, checking all around for signs of other students or teachers, and ran down the seventh-floor corridor, ducking behind statues and suits of armor, until they had reached the gargoyle that hid Snape's office. Together, Luna and Ginny tucked themselves behind a particularly large suit of armor, watching the gargoyle for a sign of life.

Ginny looked down at her watch. "Come on, Neville," she whispered.

But nothing happened, for nearly ten minutes. Luna frowned. "What if he doesn't come out?"

"I don't see why he wouldn't," said Ginny. "If these things are as loud as Fred and George say they are, there's no way he won't hear."

Luna nodded. "Maybe Neville got caught," she said.

Ginny bit her lip, when, suddenly, from just down the hall, several loud bangs cracked through the castle. Ginny and Luna both clapped their hands over their ears just as the gargoyle leapt aside and Professor Snape came sailing out of his office, black robes billowing, in the direction of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Now," Luna whispered, as soon as Snape had rounded the corner, and she and Ginny bolted for the gargoyle, leaping behind it just before it closed off.

"What d'you think you're doing?" it barked, but Luna and Ginny were already halfway up the spiraling staircase to the office door.

"We've only got a couple of minutes," said Ginny, tapping the door handle with her wand. It flew open. "That gargoyle's probably charmed to—_whoa_."

"Oh, my," said Luna, taking in the enormous office. Portraits (whose inhabitants were apparently absent, presumably to examine the source of the noise below) were crammed against each other on every inch of wall space that wasn't covered with bookshelves, which were stuffed not only with massive, moldering volumes, but also with odd, spindly instruments that even she could not recognize.

"The sword," said Luna, pointing to a glass case directly below the empty portrait frame nearest Professor Snape's desk. The enormous blade floated unsupported in its box, glittering with silver and rubies.

Ginny hurried forward and reached up for it, but was unable to even touch the box. "You're taller, Luna, come on," she said, but Luna shook her head, coming to join her.

"I don't think I can touch it," she said softly. "I think you have to."

Ginny sighed in annoyance. It was hardly the time to worry about myths and superstitions. "Then give me a boost up, will you?"

"Oh," Luna said, shaking her head as her mission snapped into place again in her mind. She bent and put her knee out so that Ginny could stand on it. "Careful," she warned, taking hold of Ginny's ankle as she pushed off of Luna's leg and climbed up the bookshelf, her fingertips just brushing the sword.

"Nearly…there…" she squeaked, pushing the case a few inches to the right. Luna watched, ready to catch it when it fell—

BANG.

The office door swung open and Ginny toppled off the bookcase, bringing the sword with her. Luna fell backwards as the case caught her in the chest, though she managed to stay upright. Ginny hit the floor hard, but she leapt back to her feet, her heart racing as she drew her wand.

"_Expelliarmus_."

Ginny's and Luna's wands flew out of their hands, directly to where Professor Snape stood in the doorway, framed on either side by the Carrows, who held Neville by the arms. He looked unhurt, but furious.

"Neville," Ginny gasped. The bottom of her stomach dropped out.

"What've we got here, headmaster?" asked Amycus with a nasty leer.

"A couple of thieves, looks like," said Alecto.

"Hand it over, Lovegood," said Professor Snape coldly, extending one hand for the sword's case. Luna didn't move. "Now," hissed Professor Snape.

Very calmly, as though she had been asked to pass the teapot, Luna stepped forward and handed the case to Snape. Ginny's heart sank.

"Look at this one," Alecto sneered. "Just what were you all planning on doing with this, eh? Stealing from the headmaster's office the best you can do?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes slightly as she stared at Alecto.

"I think that sixty points from each of you and a week's detention will more than fulfill your punishments," Professor Snape said coolly, his eyes like ice. Then he turned to the Carrows and barked, "Take their wands and get them out of my sight."

* * *

Eeeek. Hope I'm not going too fast... :-/


	4. Chapter 4

"Ow," Neville said, as he sat down gingerly at the breakfast table on Friday morning. "They must be getting better. My legs are killing me, but they haven't left any marks this time."

"Speak for yourself," said Ginny. "I think I put my back out."

Neville gave a humorless smile. "Nice, these little things we can laugh about together."

"Can't even breathe, I'm laughing so hard," Ginny said, rubbing her ribs.

"I'm sorry," Neville told her. "This is my fault. If I hadn't dropped that tray in Herbology, I would've been on time to set off the Detonators in Dark Arts..."

"Neville?" Ginny said. He stopped talking. "Shut up."

He snorted.

"Seriously," she told him. "It was a bad plan, on all our parts." She winced and put a hand to her back; it had tweaked painfully when she moved. "We'll find another way. Anyhow, six more nights, and we're done."

"Barely," Neville said. "Now we've got prefect duties with the Carrows, too."

"What?" Ginny moaned. "McGonagall's in charge of the prefects."

"The Carrows told her we're in detention all week and that they're taking our prefect duties, and she went mental," Neville said, shaking his head. "They told her that Gryffindor prefects don't report to her anymore. We report to the Carrows."

"This is a nightmare," Ginny said, burying her face in her hands.

"Do you have Transfiguration?" Neville asked, and she nodded. "She's probably going to ask to talk to you, too. She was pretty angry."

"Oh, because it's our fault we're getting tortured every night," Ginny snapped, too loudly. Neville hushed her.

"It is, Ginny," he said glumly.

"Hey, Neville."

Ginny looked up. Parvati and Lavender sat together a short ways down the bench, looking very upset.

"Have you seen Seamus?" Parvati asked, biting her lip. "I thought he might have come out of d-detention last night with you."

Horror filled Neville's face. "I—I hoped he was with you—he wasn't in detention with us, and he wasn't in our dormitory last night."

Lavender shook her head. "We thought he was with you."

Ginny's stomach gave a sudden ache. "Wait a moment—you mean that no one's seen him since Wednesday evening?" she whispered, and Lavender nodded anxiously. "Ugh," Ginny groaned. "I was wrong, _this_ is a nightmare. Does McGonagall know he's missing?"

"Well, hang on," Neville said, trying to maintain calm, though it was obvious he didn't believe a word of what he was saying. "He might be in the hospital wing. Maybe that's…" He trailed off under three icy stares from the girls.

"I'm telling Professor McGonagall," Lavender said, standing up.

"She'll find out soon enough, we've got Transfiguration today," Parvati told her, pulling her arm back down. "Don't draw attention to yourself."

"No," Ginny said suddenly, slamming her hands down on the table. "We're not going to let Seamus just disappear. Draw as much attention as you like, Lavender, walk straight up to the head table if you want to!"

"Ginny," Neville said in surprise.

"I'm tired of being scared! I'm tired of just bending over backwards for these idiots!" she snapped. "Seamus—is—missing. And we're going to get him back." She scanned the staff table. "McGonagall's not there. I've got Transfiguration now, I'll tell her." She swung herself off the bench and scooped up her bag, heading for the Transfiguration classroom. She met Luna outside the door.

"How's your back?" Luna asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Your head?"

"Fine, thank you," she answered politely.

"In!"

Professor McGonagall, looking very irritated, swept down the corridor and flicked her wand at the door, which banged open. Ginny's stomach sank like a stone. The sudden swell of confidence she'd just felt dissipated. She tried to hide herself in the line of students shoving to get in the classroom.

"Miss Weasley, I'll speak to you after class."

Ginny felt a little bit of her resolve crumble. "Yes, Professor," she mumbled.

"What's happened now?" Luna asked, as Ginny sat down beside her.

"Dunno," Ginny lied. She didn't really feel like telling the truth at the moment, that she would spend the rest of her year under the Carrows' control. She did her very best the entire lesson, taking dutiful, attentive notes and practicing her nonverbal Vanishing so successfully that she had managed to erase an entire snail. At the end of class, Professor McGonagall walked them to Charms, but held Ginny at the door.

"I understand you've received a week's worth of detention for breaking into the headmaster's office," she said, her expression severe.

"Yes, Professor," Ginny mumbled.

"I hope you know that I expect much, much more from my prefects," said Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Professor."

"Look at me, Miss Weasley."

Ginny raised her eyes, and was surprised to see a rather gentle expression on Professor McGonagall's face.

"I am no longer in charge of your prefect duties," said Professor McGonagall. "You will report to Professor Carrow. As such, I must warn you that while I may tolerate one mistake, I doubt that my…colleagues…will be so forgiving." Ginny swallowed. Professor McGonagall looked uncomfortable for a moment; then, she placed her hand on Ginny's shoulder. "I know you've had a difficult year, Weasley. I'm sorry for it. But we must press on, mustn't we?"

Ginny nodded, looking away. "I'd better get into class, Professor."

"What is this?" Professor McGonagall's voice was suddenly very sharp. "Miss Weasley, where did you get this injury?" She pointed to the side of Ginny's head, where she had missed a large, dark bruise with the blemish remover that morning.

"N-nothing, Professor," said Ginny, stepping back suddenly. "Probably did it—dunno—on my desk, maybe—" She hurried to the classroom door, fumbling with the handle.

"Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall barked, and Ginny froze. "Did another student do this to you?"

Ginny shook her head hurriedly. "Not…no, Professor. I probably did it to myself."

Professor McGonagall set her jaw. "The truth, Weasley. Now." Then, a horrible thought seemed to occur to her, and her thin lips went white. "Did you have detention last night?"

Ginny wanted desperately to lie, but she was caught. "I'm late for class, Professor," she whispered, upset and frightened.

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes and waved Ginny away. Disbelieving of her good luck, Ginny hurried for the classroom door, then paused. Professor McGonagall leaned against the railing, her eyes shut. With a snap, anger and power flooded Ginny again.

"Professor," she said, and McGonagall looked up. "Seamus Finnigan is missing. No one's seen him since Wednesday."

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened, and she made a choking, spluttering noise. "To your class, Miss Weasley!" she said sharply, turning on her heel and rushing up the corridor.

Ginny walked into Charms and took a seat near the back, where she spent the entire class with her head buried in her hands. McGonagall had been off to see the Carrows, she was certain. What fresh hell were she, Luna, Neville, and Seamus going to be put through in tonight's detention for telling Professor McGonagall?

* * *

"Oh, Merlin," Ginny moaned, looking up at the staff table. "She's not here. Neither are the Carrows. I got her kicked out, oh Merlin's pants, I got Professor McGonagall thrown out of Hogwarts…"

"It's all right, Ginny," Luna said in her ear, chivvying her over the threshold into the Great Hall. "Perhaps we're just early—maybe they're still talking upstairs—"

"I hardly think that physical punishment is necessary, regardless of the infraction!"

"Tha's not yer place ta say anymore, Minerva!"

"It is my place so long as I teach at this school and am charged with the safety of these students, Alecto!"

"Don't count on it," Ginny groaned, grabbing Luna's hand and dragging her into the entrance hall—where she had the strangest feeling of déjà vu. Alecto Carrow and Professor McGonagall stood at opposite ends of the large marble staircase, each glaring fiercely at the other. Students gathered at the top and bottom of the stairs, watching.

"If any a' these little buggers breaks a rule, it's my choice what ta do with 'em, not yours!" Alecto shrieked, looking beside herself with rage.

"How dare you?" Professor McGonagall thundered, and Ginny flinched. "How dare you speak of them that way? You call yourself a teacher? You—you horrible, miserable—"

"Professor McGonagall."

A hush fell over the students gathered all around. Professor Snape stood at the top of the stairs, just behind Alecto. He glowered unpleasantly at Professor McGonagall.

"Need I remind you," he asked coldly, "that I have appointed Professor Carrow in charge of discipline?"

"No, you do not, Headmaster," snapped Professor McGonagall.

"Then what could possibly have possessed you to make such a disgusting display?" Snape barked. He looked around at the students. "All of you, into the Great Hall now, before I start taking points."

There was a sudden, thunderous dash down the staircase as everyone fled Snape's glare. Ginny, however, hung back as long as she could to watch Professor McGonagall approach Snape, still looking very angry.

"We're doomed," she said to Luna, who looked rather upset as they walked slowly into the Great Hall.

Halfway through dinner, Neville joined them, limping and wincing on his sore legs. Luna had managed to hide herself among the Gryffindors for the time being, for it seemed that both of the Carrows, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall were still in conference. Ginny and Luna hastily filled Neville in on the argument in the entrance hall.

"We'll be lucky if McGonagall lasts the year," he said hoarsely. "Remember what Umbridge did to her?"

"Don't say that," Luna said, shaking her head.

"They can't sack her," Ginny reminded them. "She was too close to Dumbledore. Better for Snape to have her here than outside, causing trouble."

"They're not exactly afraid of hurting people, though, are they?" said Neville. The answer seemed to settle unpleasantly over them.

Ginny pushed her plate away. "I'm not eating this. I don't want to vomit tonight."

Luna gave a sly smile. "Are you sure about that?"

Neville and Ginny laughed at the idea of giving Alecto Carrow a nasty surprise in the middle of their detention, but it was short-lived. Professor McGonagall had come into the hall while none of them were looking, and now stood directly behind Ginny and Luna. She looked white-faced and furious, but she seemed unhurt. Ginny's stomach tightened.

"Yes, Professor?" Neville asked.

"You will not be having detention in the dungeons anymore," said Professor McGonagall quietly, as though it was an effort for her not to start shouting. Neville made a noise of jubilation, which she quickly silenced with a sharp look. "Instead, tonight at midnight the four of you will report to the Forbidden Forest and assist Hagrid with a chore."

"The four of us?" Ginny asked, frowning.

"Mr. Finnigan has been taken ill for the last day or so. He will be joining you this evening," said Professor McGonagall bitterly.

"Professor, you can't believe—" Ginny began, but Professor McGonagall was not listening.

"Oh, Miss Lovegood, really, to the Ravenclaw table, _now_," she said briskly, marching away from the table. Ginny recognized that tone; it was the exact same one her mother adopted when she wanted to close a subject from discussion.

Luna rose, looking between Neville and Ginny. "Perhaps we shouldn't eat much, after all," she said, downcast. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall tonight."

* * *

At a quarter to twelve that night, Ginny and Neville found themselves standing at the castle doors with Luna. "Where's Seamus?" Neville asked, looking around.

"Maybe the Carrows decided to escort him from the hospital wing," Ginny said sarcastically. "Come on, we're going to be late and I'd rather not push them too far today. They can't be happy we just got out of a week's detention."

They nodded grimly at one another and set off for Hagrid's, just visible against the dark trees beneath the rising full moon. Something about the view of the lake and Dumbledore's tomb caught in Ginny's throat; the grounds looked so like they had the last time she and Harry had been together at Hogwarts. It was a bizarre feeling, this sudden, overwhelming reminder of Harry; it was like remembering that once, she had been happy, and now—well, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt happy about anything.

To Ginny's surprise, the Carrows were already awaiting them, with Hagrid, who looked deeply upset. Seamus was nowhere in sight.

"Right," Amycus said unpleasantly, looking at Luna, Neville, and then Ginny. "We got a little job fer ye."

"Where's Seamus?" Neville demanded. Amycus took a menacing step forward.

Hagrid stepped forward hurriedly, putting himself between Neville and the Carrows. "I'm not comin' with yeh," he said warningly. "Watch yerself, Neville."

"You're sending us into the forest by ourselves?" Luna asked the Carrows, scandalized.

Alecto gave an unpleasant smile. "Problem, girly?"

"Yeh—yeh'll be all right," Hagrid whispered, throwing an irritated look over his shoulder and blocking the Carrows from view once again. "I'll leave a light in my window fer yeh, yeh can hide with me till mornin' if yeh can jes' get outta the forest. Send up green sparks if yeh need me, an' I promise I'll find yeh. I won' be sleepin'."

"Shut it, you oaf!" shrieked Alecto suddenly. "No talking!"

Hagrid scowled and turned, glowering at the Carrows. "They'd bes' come back all righ'," he growled, and Ginny looked up at him, startled. She had never heard genuine anger in Hagrid's voice before; it was very frightening. "Yeh'll have hell ter pay if they don', Carrow."

"That's not up to us, now is it, you great idiot?" asked Amycus, stumping forward and leering at them all. "Now, ye nasty little buggers, yer going to demonstrate what happens when children don't do as they're told at Hogwarts."

Neville took a step forward, pushing Ginny and Luna behind him, and Alecto cackled.

"Look at Longbottom, will yer?" she wheezed. "Right little hero, ain't ye?" She raised her wand and made a slashing movement. Neville yelled in pain, falling to his knees and clapped a hand over his cheek, which was bleeding freshly.

"Neville!" Luna cried. She knelt beside him and took his elbow, helping him to his feet, and threw a very disdainful look at Alecto, but said nothing.

"G'warn," Amycus said, taking a step towards Neville, Luna, and Ginny. "Start walking."

"You haven't told us what we're doing for our detention," Ginny told him coldly. "Or where Seamus is. He's supposed to be with us."

Amycus chuckled wheezily. "Yer going to be finding something. Rescuing it, ye might say," he laughed unpleasantly.

Ginny's stomach dropped. "Rescuing what?" she spat, taking a threatening step forward.

"Ye'll see," Alecto said coldly. "Now go!"

Ginny met Neville's eyes, panicked, and took hold of Luna's hand. She threw one last disparaging look at the Carrows, tried to smile reassuringly at Hagrid, and started to follow Neville between the trees. The path was lit by bright starlight and the full moon, dangling high above.

"See ye in the morning!" called Alecto in a horrible singsong voice. Ginny shuddered involuntarily, but didn't turn back, instead pushing forward with Neville and Luna.

"It's Seamus," Neville whispered, when they had made it a decent way down the path. "They've got Seamus in here somewhere."

Luna nodded as Ginny breathed, "Where?"

They walked, on and on for what felt like hours, into darkness so complete that they had no choice but to light their wands. Ginny plodded on, carefully checking every tree, bush, and rock for signs that Seamus had been there.

"Damn," she muttered. "That's the end of the path." They were surrounded on all sides by thick undergrowth, and the path was no longer visible.

"Well, we've still got to find Seamus," Neville said, preparing to step off the path.

"Wait," Luna whispered suddenly, catching his arm. "We need to stay quiet. Something is very wrong."

Neville and Ginny shared a worried glance.

"Let's go," Luna whispered, taking a step off the path. There was a loud crunch, and she jumped back.

"Shh," Neville whispered. "We don't want anything to hear—"

But it was too late—a wolf howled—no, a _werewolf_. Ginny's stomach turned to ice, and Luna's eyes widened as simultaneously, they both looked up at the full moon. Then there was the sound of a boy screaming; long, loud and horrible, it echoed all around the trees.

"That's Seamus—I know it," Neville whispered.

"They left him out here with a werewolf?" Ginny asked. She felt nauseated.

"A werewolf?" Neville asked.

"Fenrir Greyback," Luna whispered. "It has to be." She set her jaw. "We've got to find him. The werewolf can't be too close—our best chance is to stay quiet, and stay calm until we can get Seamus out. We need to avoid Greyback. Come on." Luna stepped forward, pushing a path through the foliage.

"I have a feeling that this isn't what McGonagall thinks we're doing," Neville whispered, picking his footing carefully.

"Funny, Neville," Ginny whispered back tensely. Fear and anger were vying for control of a huge boulder that had taken up residence in her stomach. The slightest flicker of a shadow was Greyback's tail; a snap of a twig underfoot was his bark as he lunged for their throats.

"Shh," Luna said suddenly, looking around. The werewolf howled again, and Ginny felt all the muscles in her body turn to ice; it was much, much closer.

"Hey," Neville said suddenly, raising his wand. "Look."

Down a short hill directly before them, there was a wide clearing in the trees, mostly hidden in shadow.

"Seamus," Ginny breathed. Seamus sat slumped against a tree, bound tightly against the trunk. His sandy hair fell in his eyes, but seemed to be stained with something dark. Without stopping to think, Ginny leapt down the hill, Neville and Luna on her heels, and dropped to her knees before Seamus.

"Evenin'," Seamus mumbled, struggling to focus as Ginny lifted his chin.

"Shh, shh, Seamus," she said quietly, looking over her shoulder. Neville and Luna were watching the trees for signs of Greyback. "We're going to get you out of here."

"Werewolf, Ginny," Seamus slurred. "'S a werewolf…"

"We know, we know, shh," Ginny urged, tapping Seamus's bonds with her wand. They fell away. "Neville, come help me—"

Greyback howled again, even closer than before, as Neville and Luna hurried over and heaved Seamus to his feet; he looked badly beaten, bleeding and bruised all over his face, and he was favoring his left leg.

"No, Ginny, you go first," Luna said, when Ginny tried to take Seamus under his shoulder. "You're the fastest with spells."

Seamus groaned suddenly, and his head drooped.

"Go on, Ginny, we'll carry him," Neville said urgently. Ginny nodded and lit her wand again, keeping her eyes and ears open for any sign of Greyback.

Going back was slow and arduous. They were much noisier now, dragging Seamus, and Ginny was having a hard time stopping her heart from pounding painfully in her chest.

"Wait, stop," Neville panted. "Ginny, stop."

She turned, looking all around. "Did you hear something?" she asked, panicked.

"No, no," Neville said, rubbing his side.

"Seamus is unconscious," Luna explained, heaving him more securely on her shoulder.

Ginny bit her lip. "Here, Neville, let us take him—"

Twigs snapped, and she whirled around, her wand raised. The light flickered over the trees as another crunch sounded. Then, silence fell for a very long time.

Ginny took a quiet breath. "Let's go. I think—" Then her insides froze. A low growling was coming from somewhere to her left. She raised her wand, and the light caught two enormous eyes glaring fiercely through the shadows. Long, yellow fangs that could have snapped a man in half with one bite dripped saliva as massive paws crunched through the leaves. Greyback was hunched, ready to spring.

"Run," Ginny said to the others. "_Run!" _With a crash, Neville and Luna took off, Seamus dragging limply between them, as the werewolf lunged forward. Ginny raised her wand and screamed, "_Stupefy!_"

The spell hit Greyback full in the face, but he was knocked backward only momentarily; it seemed that Stunning spells had limited effects on beasts as large as werewolves, but Ginny took the opportunity to seize hold of a low-hanging branch and swing herself up on it. "_Impedimenta!_" she gasped, just as Greyback turned and prepared for another lunge. With a whimper, the werewolf collapsed to the forest floor, temporarily immobilized.

"Come and get me," Ginny muttered, climbing up another branch. "Come and get me, ugly!" Greyback had gotten unsteadily to his feet and was circling below the tree, watching her with baleful eyes. Then, with a thrill of horror, Ginny saw his mouth open wide, revealing bloodstains on his glistening fangs. The howl was deafening; she squeezed her eyes shut until she could stand it no longer.

"_Silencio!_"

The spell hit him directly down his throat, and Greyback's howl was cut short with an odd, rasping bark. With one last hateful look at Ginny, he started off into the trees, sniffing out the others.

Ginny cursed herself, leapt out of the tree, and took off after Greyback, firing Stunning spells and Impediment jinxes every time she caught sight of his tail. It wasn't until she heard a doglike yelp that she knew she had attracted his attention again. She burst into a tight nest of trees, wand raised and ready to fight.

Slowly, Greyback limped out of the bushes. His eyes were nothing short of murderous, in the most sickeningly human way. He licked his lips slowly, advancing on Ginny, who realized too late that she was cornered by the thick trees.

"No, no, no," she said, tracking her wandlight everywhere. She could find no way out, and Greyback knew it. He seemed to be laughing at her, toying with her. He stepped closer, licking his muzzle. "_Confundus!_" Ginny shrieked, and Greyback leapt directly into a tree.

Leaping forward and landing a hard kick on Greyback's head, she was off like a shot, tearing through bushes and trees. She heard Greyback closing the gap between them and fired a Conjunctivitis Curse over her shoulder; he yelped and fell with a crash, and Ginny put on a burst of speed.

She was running harder and faster than she had in a very, very long time, glancing back over her shoulder for only a second at a time. With any luck, Neville and Luna were a long ways ahead with Seamus, though she could see no sign of them. She had no idea how far ahead they had gotten, or if they were beyond the forest at all—they could be hopelessly lost.

Her breath tearing through her lungs, wandlight dancing madly over the ground as she ran, Ginny's anger and hatred burned throughout her. She hated the Carrows, she hated them more than anything in this world. They had tried to murder Seamus, and Neville, and Luna, and she would never, ever forget that.

Ginny heard a loud crack behind her, and a long, loud howl. She whipped her head around for half a second, long enough to see a hulking mass crashing through the underbrush behind her. She wanted to scream, but had no breath for it, and instead ran faster—if Greyback caught up with her now, there would be no chance to fight him—she had to keep running, she had to get to Hagrid's, she would be safe there—the wolf howled again—

She saw it.

A flickering, orange light caught her eye straight ahead. Ginny ran faster, certain that she could hear Greyback's pounding paws drawing closer, smashing small trees and plants out of the way. The glimmering light was glowing brighter as she heard another howl, this one no more than fifty feet behind her. She focused on the light, forcing herself to run faster, faster—

Ginny heard a loud, wooden bang, and a voice shouted, "_STUPEFY!_" She ducked as a jet of bright red light soared over her head and she heard a yelp of pain and a thud.

"COME ON, GINNY!" bellowed Neville, holding his hand out Hagrid's back door. "COME ON!"

Ginny leapt from the edge of the forest, snatching for Neville's hand, and he pulled her through the door, slamming it shut behind her and throwing his weight against it.

"_Protego Totalum!_" Luna screamed, shooting a whitish light at the door, as Ginny hit the ground of Hagrid's hut. Seconds later, there was a sickening crunch and a long howl of agony as the werewolf collided with the back door. It continued to howl, clawing at the door, which rattled on its hinges, but it could not get through Luna's enchantment.

"Ginny!" Hagrid cried, lifting aside his table in one motion, scooping Ginny up in his huge hands and laying her on a blanket in front of the hearth.

Ginny was awake, but everything around her was pulsating, vibrating with color and sound—her heart was painful, bruising her chest from the inside, and she was unable to draw breath—each inhalation sounded more and more like a scream. She stared around wildly, trying to locate her friends—Seamus, in Hagrid's bed, apparently unconscious—Neville, his eyes closed, back against the door—and Luna, leaning directly over her, pressing her hands against either side of Ginny's heaving ribcage.

"Calm down, Ginny," Luna said in a remarkably soothing voice. "Relax…you need to breathe…we're all safe…we're fine…you need to breathe, though, or you're going to pass out…"

Ginny was beginning to feel lightheaded, and felt her eyes roll back. But, her harsh breathing was slowing down as Luna pressed against her lungs.

"Calm down," Luna told her. "We're fine…we're all safe…Harry would be proud of you…"

"Harry," Ginny whimpered, before everything went black.

* * *

I think a lot of you will recognize about half of this chapter from _Oh, Harry_. :)


	5. Chapter 5

"They'll all be fine. Finnigan and Weasley should stay through the weekend, but Lovegood and Longbottom can go later today."

"What _happened_ to them?"

"Keep your voice down. Longbottom says they were separated from Hagrid and got lost. That's all he'll tell me."

Ginny opened her eyes slowly. Her head was pounding and her body ached, but her senses were returning; somehow, miraculously she was lying in the hospital wing. Someone—Madam Pomfrey— had dressed her in pajamas, and she was warm and comfortable. The early dawn light shone through a window over her head. She looked to her right—Luna, also pajama-clad, sat on a bed beside her, looking tired, but unhurt. When she saw that Ginny was awake, she held a finger up to her lips and tilted her head toward the curtains that surrounded their beds.

"That can't be all," said Professor McGonagall's voice sharply.

"Minerva, if you wish to question the boy, then you may do so _only_ when he's left the ward," Madam Pomfrey answered.

There were several beats of silence. Ginny frowned and sat up, making the bedsprings creak. Luna's eyes widened and she lay back down again in her blankets, pretending to be asleep as both Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, dressed in their nightclothes, hurried into the curtains.

"Where's Seamus?" Ginny asked immediately. "And Neville? Are they all right?"

"Shh, Miss Weasley, please," Madam Pomfrey said gently, pushing her back down onto the pillow. "All of you are perfectly fine. Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Finnigan are asleep—"

"How did we get here?" Ginny demanded. "We were in the forest—"

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you tell me, Miss Weasley? Mr. Longbottom said that you collapsed trying to help find a way out of the forest. Hagrid summoned me when he could not revive you."

"You're not badly hurt," Madam Pomfrey said, rummaging around in her potion kit. When Ginny did not respond right away, Madam Pomfrey mistook her silence for fear and added, "It was just strain. You must have been frightened out of your mind. _What_ they were thinking, sending you all into the forest—even with Hagrid—"

Ginny kept her eyes away from Professor McGonagall, who was watching her a little too closely for comfort. "Right," she said. "So Luna's okay, too?"

"Just overtired and half-frozen," Madam Pomfrey grouched, stirring a glass full of something that was glowing a bright orange. "Drink this, and you'll stay the weekend here so I can be sure you're well."

Ginny obeyed, wincing at the overwhelming flavor of honey as she swallowed the potion in one gulp.

"Now this," said Madam Pomfrey, holding up a bottle. "Dreamless Sleep. None of you looks as though you've slept in a week."

"Wait a moment," said Professor McGonagall. "May I speak to Miss Weasley alone, Poppy?"

Madam Pomfrey looked affronted. "She has to rest—"

"Just a moment," Professor McGonagall insisted. "I'll have her take the potion straight away."

Ginny bit her lip, still clutching the bottle. Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Very well, but keep your voices down," she warned, before bustling out of the curtains.

Professor McGonagall heaved an enormous sigh and flicked her wand; a straight-backed wooden chair appeared beside Ginny's bed, and she sank into it, fixing Ginny with a beady stare.

"Is everything all right, Professor?" Ginny asked after several moments of silence.

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes briefly, pressing her mouth into a thin line. She seemed to force her tone to become more civil. "I…I would like very much to know what happened in the forest tonight."

Ginny blinked. "Well, it's probably just like Neville and Hagrid said," she sputtered nervously. "We got separated—"

"Probably?" demanded Professor McGonagall. Ginny shut her mouth quickly. "No, Miss Weasley, I want the truth. I don't believe for a moment that Mr. Finnigan was injured in a fall, or that you collapsed without reason." Ginny said nothing. "Perhaps you can tell me what you were all doing for Hagrid in the forest, then?" asked Professor McGonagall, sounding increasingly frustrated. Still, all Ginny could do was stare at her.

She let out a noise of irritation and threw her hands up. "I know when I am being lied to, Miss Weasley, and when it comes to you and your friends, I have felt distinctly in the dark for the course of the term. Unexplained injuries, random acts of—you broke into the headmaster's office, for heaven's sake! I am doing my best to help you, but if you refuse to be honest with me then I can do very little." Her nostrils had gone very white.

Ginny drew a breath, looking away. "We don't want you to help us, Professor," she said.

"I'm afraid that's not up to you," Professor McGonagall said irritably. "I am your teacher, and you are my responsibility—"

"That's not how it is anymore, Professor," Ginny told her, frustrated. "It's not as though protecting us is as easy as it used to be."

"Protecting you from what?" she asked shrewdly. Ginny said nothing, and McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "Miss Weasley, look at me, right now. You're going to tell me the truth, do you understand me?" Ginny nodded. "Are you acting out again as part of Dumbledore's Army?"

Ginny's stomach plummeted. It seemed only logical that Professor McGonagall would know about the Army, but it was unsettling nonetheless. "No, Professor," Ginny whispered. It was only half a lie; she forced herself not to show this.

"No lies, Miss Weasley," McGonagall warned her, and Ginny shook her head. "I'm not going to find that you've been having more—secret meetings, or—anything else?"

"No, Professor," said Ginny, looking down at her knees.

Ginny looked down at her knees. Then, without looking up, she said, "I'm tired, Professor. May I take my potion?"

Professor McGonagall gave an exasperated sigh. "Very well. I shall cancel your prefect duties for the weekend and you will stay here, as Madam Pomfrey says."

Ginny fought back an impulse to argue; now was not the time. She nodded and quickly uncorked and swallowed the Dreamless Sleep Potion; there would be time to talk to Luna about what had happened later, but for now, she needed Professor McGonagall to leave. Instantly, she felt heavy. She lay down, and the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was Professor McGonagall storming away from their beds.

* * *

When next Ginny woke, it was late afternoon. Disorientated and groggy, she sat up, rubbing her eyes. The curtains had disappeared, and the beds around her were empty, but for one. Seamus was sound asleep in the bed opposite hers. He had half-healed scrapes and bruises all over his face, and his leg was bandaged and splinted atop a pillow.

Ginny rubbed her eyes, stretching slightly. Her ribs ached and it was difficult to draw a deep breath. She repressed a shudder at the memory of the previous night.

Her pillow gave sudden, a loud crinkle. She looked down and saw a corner of parchment peeking out from underneath it. She pulled it out to see an envelope, addressed in Luna's favorite orange ink. She frowned; there was an odd weight in one corner of it. She pulled out the scrap of parchment inside.

_Say hello._

Confused, Ginny frowned and reached into the envelope and withdrew a gold Galleon. Her heart leapt, and she looked closely, looking for—yes, there it was—around the edge, instead of numerals, she saw her own name, in spiky letters.

She beamed. Somehow, Luna and Neville had altered Hermione's coins from the D.A. to send messages, not just numbers. She wondered if she could send messages as well. Glancing up and down the ward and ensuring that Seamus was asleep, she picked up her wand and tapped the letters one by one. They wriggled and shifted, until they read: AWAKE.

There was a sudden noise at the end of the ward; Madam Pomfrey was coming out of her office. When she saw that Ginny was awake, she nodded smartly.

"All right, Weasley," she said briskly, bustling over and drawing her wand. "You need an examination—"

"When may I go?" Ginny asked quickly, tucking her coin safely in the pocket of her pajamas.

Madam Pomfrey lifted her eyebrows. "I'll release you in the morning."

"I feel fine, Madam Pomfrey," Ginny insisted, though she lay back obediently and allowed the matron to start examining her. "May I go to dinner tonight?"

"Certainly not," said Madam Pomfrey, sounding affronted. "You'll not leave until I'm sure everything is normal, not a moment sooner. Nobody collapses for no reason," she said shrewdly, and Ginny knew immediately that she and Professor McGonagall had been talking about her. Madam Pomfrey gave a sigh of irritation at her silence and flicked her wand.

Against her hip, Ginny felt the coin heat up, and smiled. It seemed to take forever for Madam Pomfrey to finish, pronouncing her in good health, but overtired.

"How's Seamus?" Ginny asked.

"He'll be all right," Madam Pomfrey assured her. "You'll all be in class again by Monday." She seemed to dislike this prospect; her mouth twisted as though she were sucking on a lemon. Then she shook her head. "I'll bring you something to eat." She strode away, and Ginny was left alone. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her Galleon.

The torches had lit themselves as the sun went down, so it was easier to read the message now—she needn't have bothered, for a moment later, Neville and Luna came hurrying into the hospital wing, looking overjoyed to see her awake.

"Hi," Ginny said, beaming. She held up the coin. "This is brilliant!"

"It was all Luna," said Neville with a grin. He nodded at the Galleon she held. "That one's mine, but she can fix yours up to do the same if you get it for us."

"Neville's being modest," Luna said. "It was his idea."

"Well, we did need a better way to communicate," Ginny agreed, examining the coin before returning it to Neville. "I'll be out tomorrow morning. How are you two?"

Neville's face fell slightly. "All right."

Luna nodded. "Thank you for helping us get away, Ginny."

"You would've done the same," Ginny said uncomfortably, feeling herself go pink. "Does McGonagall know anything? I didn't tell her what really happened, but I think she suspects."

"She definitely would never guess exactly what happened in the forest," Neville said, shaking his head. "All she knows is what the Carrows told her—and I'd guess that's not exactly the truth."

"But she wouldn't have intervened if she believed what they had told her about our detentions in the first place," Luna said thoughtfully. She looked at Ginny. "I'd guess that she knows what's been happening, even if she doesn't know about last night."

Ginny's stomach turned unpleasantly. She had been afraid of that. "Well," she said heavily, "We weren't going to keep it from her forever."

"I'm surprised no one else has told her," said Neville.

"You remember the way it was with Umbridge," said Luna. "No one came forward then—they were scared they would be punished again, or they knew it wouldn't do any good. And this time, that's doubly true—sacking isn't the worst thing that can happen to the teachers, now." She spoke calmly, but Ginny felt her stomach turn to ice.

Neville nodded. "Well, at any rate, she thinks we got lost from Hagrid. Er—well, at least that's what she has to believe, for now."

Ginny squirmed uncomfortably. She didn't like keeping Professor McGonagall in the dark any more than she liked Professor McGonagall finding out the truth for herself, and she could tell the others felt the same way.

To break the awkward silence, Luna looked over at Seamus, who was soundly asleep. "I'm glad he's going to be all right," she said softly.

Ginny hugged her knees up to her chest. "I know." She looked over at Seamus as well. "You know, I was worried he'd been bitten?" As she said it, a chill ran through her.

Neville swallowed hard. "He's fine, and so are we." He looked seriously at Ginny. "Luna says McGonagall asked you about Dumbledore's Army."

Ginny waved a hand dismissively. "She thinks we're starting up again. I told her no." Luna was frowning slightly. Neville bit his lip. "What?" Ginny asked. "It's the truth, we're hardly an army."

"Well, that's just it," Luna said quietly. She looked down the ward. Madam Pomfrey's office door stood open, but there was no sign of the matron. "We're _not_ an army, Ginny." She glanced at Neville, who was looking anxious. Ginny had the sudden impression that she was being cornered.

"We want to try—just try, mind," Neville said, looking startled at the expression on Ginny's face. "We want to try having a meeting. I can talk to Hannah in Herbology—she's asked me at least three times, I _know_ she'd never give us up—and you and I know the Gryffindors better than anybody—Luna's got the Ravenclaws—"

"No." Ginny had set her jaw, and she was glaring fiercely between them. "No."

"Ginny, why _not?_" Neville burst out. He quickly dropped his voice, keeping his eye on Madam Pomfrey's door. "We've just proven we can't do this alone. Seamus almost got murdered by a werewolf for doing exactly the same kind of thing we're trying to do! There's safety in numbers, and you know it."

"Ginny," Luna said soothingly, taking Ginny's hand again—she jerked away. "Ginny, listen—this isn't about being able to stand up on our own, anymore. All we've done is put ourselves in more danger the way we've been doing things—but even that doesn't matter. We're not being fair to them. Everyone has a right to stand up, as much as we do." She pointed to Seamus. "Seamus has been trying to do it all on his own, and it's nearly killed him. It's _October_, Ginny. How is he—how are _we_ supposed to last on our own until June if _this_ is what happens to us?"

"We have to call a meeting," Neville said firmly.

Ginny drew a slow breath. A million furious retorts were rushing through her mind, but deep, deep down she knew that Luna and Neville were right, and that made it worse.

"I'll think about it," she said at last.

"Ginny—"

"I said I'll think about it, Luna," she snapped.

A sudden noise distracted them. Seamus had hoisted himself up on his elbow, clearly wide-awake. The bruises on his face were much fainter than they had been the night before, and he was grinning. "Think quick, Ginny—Neville, I'm in," he said eagerly.

Neville laughed and got up, going to Seamus's bed. He smiled at Ginny, who did not smile back.

"Ginny?" Luna asked, putting a hand on her arm.

Ginny jerked away suddenly, burying herself in her blankets. She did not emerge again until she had heard Neville and Luna leave.

* * *

Hey guys!

How is this going for you all? I heard reviews have been down for people-I just haven't gotten too measurable a response to this story from my readers, so I was curious. Am I not posting enough? Anything missing/not working in the writing? Let me know! I'm happy to halt this and try a relaunch when I work out any kinks! :)

Lucy


	6. Chapter 6

Ginny was released from the hospital wing on Sunday afternoon. She did not wait for Seamus, who was being examined thoroughly by Madam Pomfrey. She had no desire to discuss Dumbledore's Army or anything else; she just wanted to be by herself. Assuming that Neville would be lying in wait for her in Gryffindor Tower, Ginny took the long way back, hoping that Seamus's return would provide enough of a diversion to allow her to slip up to her dormitory unnoticed.

She quickly found herself wandering along a deserted corridor on the seventh floor. In any other year, even when Professor Umbridge had seized control, students would be wandering about at this hour of the day, coming from the library, going to Quidditch practice, or just exploring the castle.

Now, though, there was no one. They were trapped in the common rooms, though whether this was due to the Carrows' rules or the students' fear of the new regime was unclear. At any rate, one thing was plain. Hogwarts was deserted.

Ginny wrapped her arms around herself. Daylight was filtering weakly through a high, narrow window in the wall overhead, casting a narrow chink of golden light on a tapestry that hung on the stone wall…the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Ginny's heart leapt; she looked quickly at the blank stretch of wall beside her. Slowly, without ever really making the decision to do it, she began to pace back and forth before the wall.

_I need to know what to do…What do I do?…I need help…_

She faced the wall again. To her surprise, a shiny wooden door had appeared. She reached for the handle. The Room of Requirement would not have materialized without reason, she told herself, though she didn't see how it could possibly know the answer to her question. Pushing away her fear, Ginny turned the handle.

Her heart stopped. The room had taken on its appearance as it had been in the days of Dumbledore's Army. Shelves crammed with books about the Dark Arts, cushions for Stunning, Dark Detectors, everything down to the last Sneakoscope was exactly where it had been the night that Dumbledore's Army had abandoned it—except for one thing.

Directly in the center of the room stood an ornately carved mahogany table. Upon it sat an enormous eagle-feather quill, a fresh roll of parchment, and a bottle of violet ink.

Ginny walked slowly to the table and picked up the quill, her eyes stinging as she swallowed a painful lump in her throat. Whatever she had been hoping for from the Room of Requirement, it was not this.

And with a sudden, terrible, keening pang, Ginny realized just how much she missed the people she loved—her mother and father, worlds away from her for all the good they could do to help her—her brothers, her friends, the Order of the Phoenix—Tonks, and Lupin, and Hermione, and Colin—and Harry—she wanted to scream out in fury at herself for being so foolish and selfish as to think he ought to be with her instead of wherever he was now, but she couldn't help it any longer.

She crumpled the quill in her fist and threw it away, kicking the table leg in frustration—this helped very little, and she stood gingerly on one foot for several moments as the pain subsided.

So what was she to do? Ginny thought angrily. Cave in, agree with Neville and Luna and be responsible for jeopardizing the safety of her friends, her teachers? Stand her ground and fight alone?

She _knew_ the answer, and she was furious with herself for not simply acknowledging it sooner—and that made it impossible to accept. There had to be a better answer, and she was determined to find it—if Neville and Luna would not stick with her, then she would put herself up before they had the chance. She would put herself in danger first, because maybe then she wouldn't ever have to see her friends lying in the hospital wing beside her again.

Neville and Luna's faces floated to the front of her mind. She was simultaneously angry with and protective of them, and she felt as though she were going mad just trying to stop them from doing something that was, as far as Ginny could see, incredibly stupid.

She folded her arms over her stomach. It had been a long time since she had had absolutely no idea what to do in the face of a crisis. Sighing heavily, Ginny started for the door, when something caught her eye. A fresh quill had appeared on the mahogany table, pristine as ever.

Ginny scowled and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Ginny avoided the Great Hall, remembering Harry's knack for knowing exactly when it was emptiest and eating at those times instead. She spent as little time as possible in the common room and the library, electing instead to haunt her dormitory in order to get her homework done; her mood was so foul that after a few days, Parvati and Lavender took the hint and avoided the room at all costs except for when they went to bed.

One morning only a few days after she left the hospital wing, Ginny was running late to class, and by the time she arrived in Charms, the last seat available was the one beside Luna. She teetered on the spot for a moment; she'd been carefully avoiding Luna all week.

"Take your seats, please!" called Professor Flitwick, taking his place atop his stack of cushions.

Ginny gritted her teeth and swung herself in beside Luna, who gave her a dreamy smile.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly.

"Morning," Ginny said through clenched teeth.

"Today, you'll be practicing non-verbal Summoning spells. You've all mastered the spell well enough—let's see how you do," squeaked Professor Flitwick. "Divide into pairs and begin. I'll be checking your progress."

"May I work with you?" Luna asked.

Ginny gave a slight smile. "Sure."

Professor Flitwick Banished all of the tables to the sides of the room, and the class spread themselves around. It was only after nearly ten minutes that Ginny gave up trying to silently Summon the cushions in the box at Luna's feet. She went to fetch the box so that Luna might have a chance to try.

"Have you found your Galleon, yet?" Luna asked quietly.

Ginny stiffened, bent over in the act of picking up the cushions. "No. Why?"

"Neville and I are fixing everyone's coins—we'll have the meeting soon—"

"Shh," Ginny warned sharply; Professor Flitwick was coming close.

"Your turn, Miss Lovegood, let's see," he said.

Ginny carried the box of cushions to her original spot and dropped it on the floor. She crossed her arms, scowling at Luna, who had adopted a look of mild interest (which Ginny knew was actually intense concentration) and raised her wand.

After only a minute or so, one of the cushions in Ginny's box soared up and into Luna's outstretched arms.

"Excellent, Miss Lovegood!" said Professor Flitwick. "Five points for Ravenclaw. Concentration, Miss Weasley, it's key!" he added seriously to Ginny, who nodded slightly.

"We're thinking of meeting sometime in the next couple of weeks, depending on how many people we can find," Luna said, bending down to pick up the box of cushions. "Just to see who's willing…"

"I can't believe you really want to do this," Ginny said in her ear.

Luna stared at her. "We don't _want _to. We _have_ to."

After that, Ginny didn't talk to Luna at all for nearly three weeks. She sat as far away from her as possible in their classes, choosing a spot in the farthest row from the teacher. Luna, however, didn't seem perturbed. Or, if she was, she would not say so. Every now and then, Ginny would pass Luna in the corridor and receive a dreamy smile that she, Ginny, would inevitably scowl at.

The result of this silent treatment, however, did not serve to make Ginny feel better. Quite the contrary, after a full week of classes, she began to wonder whether Neville and Luna even noticed her absence at all; neither seemed to care very much.

The rational part of her said, _Of course they care. You know they're right, and they know it too. They just want you to have time and space_.

The nasty, envious, angry part of her was less charitable. _They never wanted you in the first place. They don't understand anything, they think this is some kind of game. You're quite right not to get mixed up in anything stupid._

But the truth was, Ginny knew down into her core just how badly she wanted to be fighting alongside Neville and Luna and the others, and it was her own embarrassment, stubbornness, and pride that kept her from apologizing—which, in turn, made everything worse. Whenever this cycle of unpleasantness occurred to her, Ginny would inevitably hop off of her bed and pace furiously around her dormitory, Arnold squeaking unhappily on her shoulder at the sudden movement.

In order to take her mind off of things, Ginny set about burying herself in the mountain of homework she received, so much so that she failed to notice, one evening, when she forgot to report to her prefect duties. Professor McGonagall, spectacles flashing, approached her in the Great Hall one morning as she sat by herself.

"Miss Weasley, may I have a word with you?"

Ginny started, looking over her shoulder. "Er—yes, Professor."

Professor McGOnagall's mouth was a thin white line. "Professor Carrow informs me that you failed to report for your patrol last night. Do you have an explanation?"

Ginny's mouth fell open. "Oh—Professor, I'm sorry. I—I forgot." It sounded like a lie, even to Ginny, and Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed. Ginny knew exactly what she was thinking.

As soon as the Carrows had found, to their barely-masked displeasure, that Ginny and the others had survived their night in the forest, they had dug up several more of Professor Umbridge's old educational decrees. These were, by now, appearing daily on the common room notice boards bearing Professor Snape's signature and seal of approval, and barely two days after the incident in the forest, the Gryffindors woke to find a reinstatement of the decree that banned teachers from talking to students about any subject unrelated to the one they were paid to teach.

Ginny could see in Professor McGonagall's face that this was nothing short of torture for her, but that had not stopped her from trying to find out about the status of Dumbledore's Army.

Now, Professor McGonagall seemed to be wrestling with her thoughts. "You forgot."

"I was doing my homework, and I forgot it was my night to be on patrol," Ginny insisted.

"You were in Gryffindor Tower all night?" McGonagall pressed, her beady eyes narrowing further. "You're sure?"

"Positive," Ginny answered, but her eyes flickered automatically, traitorously down the table to where Neville sat with Parvati and Lavender.

Professor McGonagall gave an irritated sigh, her nostrils flaring. "Very well."

Ginny stared at her. "Am I getting a detention?" she asked.

For the first time, Professor McGonagall looked a little frightened. "No. Ten points from Gryffindor will do, and I will speak to Professor Carrow." She swept off down the table, and Ginny turned dejectedly back to her plate, no longer hungry. She looked up the table again; Neville was watching her, but he quickly averted his eyes at her gaze.

That was it. Ginny slammed down her fork and knife, pulled up her bag, and marched out of the Great Hall.

_Let them do what they want_, she thought. She had bigger, more important things to do than get caught in the trap that was sure to be Dumbledore's Army.

* * *

A week later, Ginny lay alone in her dormitory. Arnold was playing his favorite game of rolling about on her bed while she tickled him. She had just sent a letter to her mother, and was feeling very down; she hadn't received any mail in days, nor news of any kind. Even the rumor mill within Hogwarts seemed to have ground to a halt.

She hated this dark, empty feeling she had in her heart that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get rid of. Worrying about Harry, Ron and Hermione, fear for her family, guilt over her row with Neville and Luna, and the stress and anger of dealing with the Carrows' iron grip were just a few of the overwhelming thoughts that weighed on her, like an invisible hand squeezing her lungs.

Ginny looked over to the window. She could see a dementor hovering over the lake, and repressed a shudder. Scooping up Arnold and holding him against her stomach, she walked over to the sill, staring at the long cape fluttering in the wind, like a sinister black cloud.

Far below it, barely a speck on the iron-gray template that was the grounds, was Professor Dumbledore's tomb. Ginny closed her eyes, hearing echoes of the last time she and Harry had talked before everything had changed—hearing him say goodbye.

Parvati and Lavender burst suddenly into the room, chattering loudly, and Ginny sighed inwardly, sitting down on her bed and facing away so that she wouldn't have to talk to them.

They were only there for a few minutes, laughing about their lessons and complaining about their homework, for they seemed to be getting ready for something—as though they were going to try to leave Gryffindor Tower. Ginny frowned, watching them out of the corner of her eye.

As they left, Parvati stopped at the door. "Er—Ginny? Aren't—aren't you…you know…"

Ginny turned. "No, I don't know."

"Aren't you…coming with us?" Parvati asked.

She was staring at Ginny very meaningfully, and suddenly, Ginny cottoned on. Tonight was the first D.A. meeting without her. She nearly leapt up and ran after them, but her body seemed to have frozen. She hadn't believed it would really happen—that Neville would just carry on without her.

"I—"

"Parvati, come on!" Lavender called up the stairs.

Parvati gave Ginny a quick grin and hurried off. Ginny sat back on the bed again, shocked. Then, slowly, as her brain clunked into motion again, she felt a rush of envy. She stood angrily, marching back over to the window with Arnold still in her hands. She stared out at the lake; there was a large group of dementors, now; Ginny wondered whether they were conferring, or simply changing guards.

She had heard her father speak as though a dementor could talk. Now, staring at this congregation of at least fifty or so, hovering above the windswept lake, she wondered how that was possible, and what a dementor's voice sounded like. As this unpleasant thought occurred to her, it mingled with the ice-cold envy, anger and longing that had been pent-up inside her for nearly a month.

For the first time since she was barely thirteen years old, Ginny had an overwhelming mental image of the Chamber of Secrets as it had looked to her, when she was only eleven, and Tom Riddle's voice had echoed in her head, commanding her to wait there. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling nauseous.

Suddenly, she became aware that she was sitting, and that Arnold was squeaking horribly—she had been holding him too tightly.

"Oh, Arnold, I'm sorry," Ginny said quickly, smoothing his fur. He looked rather disconsolate and ruffled. She tucked him back into his cage, where he rolled under the empty Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean container that served as his bed and glared crankily at her.

She was not looking, though. She was staring out of the window at the group of dementors above the lake, which had diminished again to only a handful. How, how on earth had she just brought upon herself the very worst kind of experience she had ever had in the presence of a dementor—when the closest one was down on the grounds, far below her?

Was this a possible answer to why she had been so obstinate and cold after her fight with Luna? Had she been succumbing, slowly but surely, to the effects of the dementors, and the Carrows' iron grip, allowing herself to wallow in her own ill will and negative feelings?

There was a sudden knock at the door. Ginny frowned. Anyone who was meant to be in the room would have just walked in. "Come in?" she called curiously.

There was a pause, and then, slowly, the door creaked open. Josephine O'Brien, the curly-haired, fierce little first-year, poked her head in the room. Her face was white as chalk and her eyes were full of tears.

"Lavender?" she asked—then she spotted Ginny and her eyes widened. "Oh—never mind."

"Josephine, wait," Ginny said, before she could shut the door. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Josephine said hurriedly. "I'm fine, I only wanted to see Lavender about—homework—" Ginny frowned. "I couldn't find Seamus, so I…I thought I'd…ask…" Josephine fell silent, looking down at her feet. "Do you know when Seamus and Lavender will be back?" she asked, her voice full of tears.

"What happened to you?" Ginny asked sharply—so sharply that Josephine started in fright and looked up at her. "Josephine, tell me the truth."

Josephine's chin trembled. "I was late to Muggle St-Studies, and—Professor Carrow—she—g-gave me—d-detention," she wailed at last, throwing herself around Ginny's middle.

Ginny fought back a wave of sickness and hugged Josephine tightly, bringing her to sit on the edge of the nearest bed. "All right," she said hoarsely. "All right, you're safe, now. You're safe…" All Josephine could do was sob, buried against Ginny's chest.

Ginny herself, however, seemed to be experiencing a minor explosion inside of her skull. It was as though someone had turned on all the lights at once. Her gaze was fixed on her latest piece of Muggle Studies homework—hand-copying a booklet called _Monstrous Murderers: The Modern Wizard's Guide to Half-Breeds_. For the first time in weeks, she felt anger—real, white-hot anger, and a spark of rebellion licking her insides like fire.

Dementors, of all things—dementors had _helped_ her. Perhaps they weren't _the_ answer she needed, but they certainly gave her a focus for her despair, a channel to convert it into action. She felt more like herself than she had in a month.

"Josephine," she said, pulling back from the girl, who was trying to calm herself down. "Josephine, listen—I have somewhere I need to go, and it's very, very important, or I wouldn't leave you. If you want, I can take you to your room and have someone keep you company, but I can't stay."

Josephine nodded, sniffling. "All right."

Ginny smiled, patting her hair. "Good girl. Come on, let's go."

She brought Josephine all the way down to the first-year girls' dormitory and told her to wait while she fetched a very confused, but agreeable Demelza Robins, who immediately took over as Josephine's comforter.

Ginny said a hurried goodnight and dashed upstairs, where she had to rummage around in her trunk for nearly ten minutes before she found what she needed. She finally found Hermione's enchanted Galleon folded in the pages of a book. Cursing her poor packing skills and praying she wasn't too late, Ginny flew out of the common room, attaching her prefect's badge as she went.

The plan was to tell anyone she met that she had been reassigned prefect duties for the evening, but as it was still not quite time for curfew, no one stopped her as she ran all the way to the farthest seventh-floor corridor.

_I need to find my friends…I need to fight with them…I need to find them…_

Her heart filled with desire to deliver her apology, to support her friends, to fight back against the people that had been so cruel to Josephine, and Neville, and Luna, and Seamus…she turned and faced the wall, sure that the door would appear. It was blank. There was no door. There was no Room of Requirement.

Her heart sank. Dumbledore's Army no longer had a place for her.

Ginny sank, openmouthed, onto the plinth of a nearby statue. What was she to do? Did she not belong anymore? Had she lost her place entirely?

"Ginny."

She leapt up. Luna stood before the open door of the Room of Requirement, beaming.

"I knew you'd be here. Come in, quick!"

"How…?" Ginny asked, staring around as Luna pulled her inside.

"The Room can tell us if there are people outside!" Luna said joyously. "Neville figured out how to make it work, so we know it's safe to come and go!"

Ginny had stopped listening. Twelve pairs of eyes were fixed on her. It appeared that she had interrupted Neville as he stood before the others, who were seated in assorted chairs all squished together in the center of the room.

Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, and Ernie Macmillan sat in winged armchairs directly in front of Neville, with Terry Boot (perched on a stool) and Padma Patil (in a recliner) on either side. Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein sat behind them in wooden captain's chairs.

"What took you so long, then?" Seamus demanded from near the back, where he sat with Parvati and Lavender on a couch.

"Never mind that, we can have our meeting now," Luna said brightly, settling herself on the floor before a pile of gold Galleons. She looked up at Ginny. "Have you found your Galleon?"

"Oh—er—here," she said, digging in her pocket and sitting on the floor near Luna. "Sorry I'm late, Neville."

Neville grinned.

"Right—well, like I was saying, we're—we're the oldest, now, and there are only a few of us left. Luna and I—and Ginny—we think it's important—"

"Did you three really break into Snape's office last month?" asked Ernie, frowning.

Neville shifted uncomfortably. Several others looked surprised by this news.

"You've been trying to be Dumbledore's Army by yourselves?" asked Padma, shocked.

Neville looked desperately at Ginny and Luna. "Well, we—we didn't want to put you all in danger—"

"Well, you've done a good job of that, haven't you?" Seamus demanded.

The group was becoming restless.

"We didn't know how many of you still believed—" Neville began.

"Lots of us have been standing up to the Carrows _because_ we believe in Dumbledore's Army!" Michael said stoutly. "What, did you think that just because they're Death Eaters we'd be too scared to fight back?"

Ginny stared at him. "How do _you_ know they're Death Eaters?"

"Some of us were here last June," said Ernie rather disparagingly. "And those two aren't hard to recognize."

"Besides, it was easy to figure out," piped up Susan. "Two new teachers with the same agenda as You-Know-Who?"

"_And _they're friends with Snape, _and_ they're vile!" Hannah Abbott added angrily. "We're not stupid," she said to Neville. "And neither are you. If you wanted to break into Snape's office you had all of us ready and willing to help."

"Why didn't you let us?" Terry Boot asked.

"We've all been checking our coins all year, waiting to hear something!" said Anthony Goldstein, looking around for confirmation. "If not from Harry, then from somebody else who wanted to re-form the Army."

"Who here hasn't gotten at least one of the Carrows' detentions for mouthing off in class?" Parvati asked. Not a single hand went up, and Ginny saw for the first time the faint line of a scar on Parvati's chin—a souvenir, like the one on her own knee? How had she not noticed?

"You tried going it alone," Lavender said incredulously, folding her arms. "Well, can't say that's not brave."

"It wasn't wise, though," Padma said sharply. "You all could've gotten expelled—"

"Killed, more like," Seamus said darkly. Ginny's eyes widened.

"Seamus," Neville warned.

"No, I'm going to tell everyone the truth," answered Seamus furiously, getting to his feet. He looked around at the others. "When they served detention for breaking into Snape's office, they weren't down in the dungeons." Blank, confused expressions met this statement. "The Carrows dumped them in the forest, and they had to find me." He looked at Parvati, who had her hand over her mouth. "I wasn't in the dungeons either. They left us all in the Forbidden Forest—" he sighed. "And turned a werewolf loose."

Susan gave a soft scream and Hannah shut her eyes. Ernie was ashen. Padma looked as though she were going to faint.

Lavender, however, had gone white with fury. "And you didn't see why that was a good reason to call us?" she said to Neville through clenched teeth. Mutinous stares were being redirected to Neville, who looked quite frightened.

"Look," Ginny said sharply, standing up. "It was my idea. It was my idea not to call you for a meeting. _I_ told Neville and Luna we should do it alone, so don't blame them. They're the ones who planned this tonight, not me. They were right from the beginning." She looked meaningfully at Neville. "I was wrong."

"I think," said Luna dreamily, standing up, "That what we ought to be doing right now is not arguing. We should be making plans."

"What kind of plans?" Padma asked.

"Plans for a rebellion," Luna said, looking at her in surprise.

"Rebellion?" Padma scoffed. "Luna, I don't think—"

"No, she's right," said Ernie. "We can't exactly throw the Carrows out, can we? But we can certainly make life difficult for them."

Ginny grinned. "Absolutely." She turned to Luna. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well," said Luna thoughtfully, as though she were only just thinking about it. "We'll need a way to pass news along, won't we? And I expect we should continue our Defense lessons, the way we used to with Harry—" Ginny's heart gave a painful twist. "—And I think we ought to try for a bit of mayhem. Though I don't quite know what that could be, yet."

"All right," said Neville, clapping his hands together. "First things first—we'll keep the same method of communication, all right? Irregular meetings—"

"Wait a moment, who's our leader?" Seamus asked. "No more Harry."

There was silence for a moment.

Then Ginny said, "Neville."

"W-what?" he stammered. "Me? N-no—I can't—" But it was too late; the idea was planted. Everyone's faces were lighting up with surprise, but also satisfaction.

"Of course you can, Neville," said Luna, beaming. "Now, everyone collect your coins—" She wandered about distributing the modified Galleons among the members.

Ginny approached Neville, who was holding his and staring into space, shocked. "I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true, Neville," she told him quietly. "You're our leader. You have been for a while."

Neville stared at her. "I can't just—will—will you help me? And Luna?"

Ginny smiled. "Of course we will." She looked down for a moment. "And I'm sorry. I really am. You were right the whole time, and I was—I was just being stupid."

Neville grinned and put a hand on her arm. "It's okay. You're here now."

She nodded. "Okay, everyone, quiet! Neville, what were you saying about meetings?"

"Oh—well, we'll keep them at odd times and avoid breaking curfew as much as we can. Luna, you can teach us any new spells we want, can't you?"

"I can try," Luna said graciously, seating herself in a rocking chair that had appeared in the cluster of seats.

"And—and we'll practice old stuff, too," Neville said.

Ginny nodded. "What about news, Luna, what did you have in mind?"

At this, Luna actually blushed a little pink. "Well, the Carrows are stopping our papers and mail…" she faced the others. "But my father is willing to find ways to send me the _Quibbler,_ or at least news from it. I thought we could write our own sort of—newsletter—and distribute it secretly, like when Harry gave that interview to Rita Skeeter?"

"We've got N.E.W.T.s, Luna," Parvati said. "How are we supposed to find time to—"

"I'll write it," Ginny said immediately. "I'll write it, and you can all find ways to put it out."

There was a murmur of general agreement at this. "Good," Neville said. "Great. Which leaves—"

"Mayhem," Seamus said, with a great deal of relish. "Give us a week or two, Neville. We'll have some ideas."

"Fantastic," said Neville. He looked at his watch. "Nearly curfew. All right—everyone should leave in twos and threes, all right? Don't do anything that'll attract attention—no stopping, all right?"

"We know the drill, Neville," said Hannah brightly, patting his arm as she passed with Ernie and Susan.

It took five minutes or so for the Room of Requirement to empty. Luna gave a wave and a vague smile as she left with Padma and Terry. "I'll see you at breakfast," she said as the door swung shut.

Neville and Ginny were alone. "I'm really glad you came," he said.

She nodded. "Me too. I promise, I won't be stupid like that ever again."

Neville nodded and opened the door, following her at a brisk pace to Gryffindor Tower. "Are you really going to write a newspaper?"

"Not a newspaper," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Just—if there's anything to be passed on, I'll do it. That way there are none of those awful rumors that ruin everything."

"We really missed you," Neville told her.

"Oh, you weren't all alone," Ginny answered. "You had Luna—_billywig_." They had reached the Fat Lady, who swung open.

"You're very nearly late," she admonished as they scrambled through the portrait hole.

The common room was full of people chatting, playing board games, and doing homework. Parvati, Lavender, and Seamus had arrived back safely; they were seated in the three chairs closest to the fire. Demelza Robins approached Ginny right away.

"Josephine's asleep," she said. "I just left her."

Neville frowned. "What's wrong with Josephine?"

"I'll tell you later—thanks, Demelza," said Ginny. Demelza nodded and walked back to her chess game.

"I've got some homework to get done," Neville said, yawning and stretching as they walked to the dormitory stairs. "Think I'll go upstairs."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Ginny said, starting up the girls' staircase.

"Hey, Ginny?"

She turned.

"We—I really missed you," Neville said. "Really. I'm glad you're back."

Ginny grinned. "Thanks, Ne—"

The rest of her sentence was cut off, because Neville leaned in and tried to kiss her.

She ducked back and stared at him, sputtering in shock and a bit of anger. "What are you—"

But Neville's face filled with terror. Without a word, he ran up the boys' staircase and out of sight. Ginny blushed scarlet, looking around quickly to determine whether anyone in the common room had seen—it didn't appear so. Quickly, she ran up her own staircase and hid in her dormitory for the rest of the night.

* * *

Aww. There's our girl.

In other news, WTF NEVILLE?


	7. Chapter 7

Being a part of Dumbledore's Army again filled Ginny with more happiness than she had felt in months. She could feel her worries about her family, Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix weighing less and less on her with every meeting. It was easy to stop giving in to fear when she felt like she, too, was fighting back.

So far, they had successfully distributed more than fifteen flyers bearing news bulletins among the students, thanks to Luna's father. Every week he sent her long, rambling letters bearing a secret code that only he and Luna could understand. She explained to a very curious Ginny that as a child, she had liked to speak in secret languages with her parents, who had thought it quite a useful pursuit and encouraged it.

At any rate, Luna spent hours poring over the letters. She would make a few pages of notes that were ultimately revealed to be a list of names of missing Muggles and wizards, or an announcement of the appointment of a new Ministry official, or a clipping explaining the activities of the Muggle-Born Registration Committee.

Luna would give the notes to Ginny who would quickly print and duplicate them during meetings of Dumbledore's Army, and then distribute them to the members, who would spread them secretly around the school. Ernie Macmillan quickly came up with several clever ways for them to hide the flyers in plain sight. He folded them into his classmates' textbooks, left them under chairs in the Great Hall, and stuffed them in suits of armor and behind statues.

The Carrows, enraged that news was starting to leak in under their noses, did their best to uncover the source of the bulletins, but had had no success in obtaining a copy; Ginny had cleverly used Vanishing ink—within twelve hours of their distribution, the ink would disappear permanently.

Tonight, she and Luna sat at a table at one end of the Room of Requirement, working on the newest letter. The others were lazily practicing Stunning each other, but were, for the most part, sitting around on the cushions and chatting.

Luna wore a very concerned expression as she circled words and letters on the rather short note from her father.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.

"Nothing," Luna said vaguely. "Dad must have been busy this week, that's all." She turned the parchment over to Ginny. "It's ready."

"Thanks," she answered, taking it. She watched Luna wander over to where Neville sat. He glanced up and caught Ginny's eye; she looked away quickly. They had avoided talking about his attempt at kissing her, though they had remained quite agreeable (if a little distant) towards each other.

She frowned, starting to copy out Xenophilius Lovegood's code. Luna was right—it was quite short this week.

"Erm—attention! Hey, everybody?" Neville said loudly, standing up. "I—I was thinking. We've been reviewing our old spells for quite a while, and Luna's going to try and teach us a Disillusionment Charm next week. I—uh—I think we should talk about what else we want to get done. Seamus?"

Seamus stood up. "Tomorrow night I want to break curfew and write on the walls in the Great Hall. The Carrows would have no way of getting it down before people saw it at breakfast!"

"Saw what?" Parvati asked.

"'Dumbledore's Army Lives,'" said Seamus proudly, spreading his hands before him as though he were unveiling a piece of art. "It's a great signoff, isn't it?"

There was an appreciative murmur.

"You want us to reveal ourselves so soon?" asked Padma.

"If we expect to get anything done, it's about time," Ginny said from across the room. "These flyers are only going to do so much. But here, I have a small change." She had finished writing the latest newsletter, a list of names of the missing, and brought the sheet to Neville. "That way, we can connect the graffiti with our papers. It'd be like one big reveal."

"Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting," he read with a laugh. "That's brilliant, Ginny! Really—"

"It's like…rising from the ashes," Hannah said slowly. "We're still here, they can't get rid of us."

"People are going to start talking," Parvati said excitedly. "They're going to know we're here!"

"McGonagall's going to kill us," Neville said to Ginny, who looked away awkwardly.

"She's been expecting it all along," Lavender said dismissively. "She cornered me over a month ago and asked. But that doesn't matter, anyway, none of the teachers can legally ask us about it—not even the Carrows!"

There was a great deal of laughter at this realization; by their own rule as they had stolen it from Professor Umbridge, the Carrows couldn't interrogate anyone from Dumbledore's Army. This, of course, wouldn't stop them from trying, but it seemed a humorous prospect.

"Right—so, I think what we should do is this," Neville said. "Seamus is going to divide everyone into pairs. Mixed Houses," he said, spotting Ernie as he reached for Hannah's hand. "That way if we're caught, we can break off in any direction and retreat to the common rooms without attracting trouble for anyone else."

"We could do with some of those Shield Cloaks from Fred and George," said Michael ruefully.

"I haven't got much of their stuff," Ginny said honestly. "Skiving Snackboxes and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder…oh, and a box of Decoy Detonators."

"That'll do for now," Neville said. "We're going to set the prefects together. They'll be responsible for keeping any teachers on guard away from the route to the Great Hall."

"Seventh years are on tomorrow night," said Ernie.

"Malfoy," Ginny muttered darkly.

Neville nodded. "Right. So…it'll be Malfoy and Parkinson, me and Parvati, Ernie and Hannah, and Anthony and Padma. In that case, I'd like those last three pairs to stick together and be in charge of creating the distractions. Anyone whose name wasn't in there, pick a partner not in your House."

Susan looked at Michael Corner, who nodded agreeably, while Terry and Lavender exchanged nods. That left Seamus with Luna, who gave him a vague smile, and—

"What about Ginny?" Parvati asked.

Ginny had been so absorbed in watching everyone else that she had not noticed she was left partnerless. She swallowed. "I'll keep a lookout. I'll get everyone in and out of the entrance hall while the rest of you are running decoys and keeping the teachers busy."

"By yourself?" Neville asked. "I don't think—"

"I can do it," Ginny insisted. She felt a little thrill of excitement at the very idea. "I'll lead everyone to the Great Hall and keep watch while they write on the walls."

"Without being seen?" he asked.

"Trust me." She looked around, hoping for someone to give her a vote of confidence.

"She can do it," said Ernie suddenly. "If there's anyone I'd want running lookout, it's Ginny."

"Yeah, Neville," said Parvati. "Let her do it."

Ginny blushed, but looked hopefully at him.

"All right," Neville said at last. "Let's do it."

The next day passed in a blur of excitement for Ginny. She behaved herself to previously unheard-of degrees, smiling in a sickly way at Alecto Carrow's face all through her double Muggle Studies lesson, and chuckled to herself at the thought of what Fred and George would say if they could see how amiable she was when Amycus threatened her entire class with a detention for not sitting down quickly enough.

She bolted down just enough dinner to keep her alert for the rest of the evening and ran up to Gryffindor Tower. Parvati and Lavender were waiting for her.

"Do you have the Decoy Detonators?" Parvati asked.

Ginny threw open her trunk, rummaging around the bottom beneath her spare robes. "Yes—here." She thrust the brightl colored box into Parvati's hands and kept digging, producing a second box. "And here, Lavender. This is called Indelible Ink. It's permanent, so be careful not to get it on your skin, you don't want to get caught with it. You're to give this to everybody else going into the Great Hall."

"Right," Lavender said seriously.

Ginny sat back on her heels, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "We want all of this done in under ten minutes."

"We know," Parvati assured her. "It's going to be fine."

Ginny nodded distractedly, staring into the depths of her trunk.

"Er…okay…come on, Lav, let's find Seamus and Neville," said Parvati. She closed the door behind them as Ginny continued to sit on the floor.

She reached numb fingers into her pocket, feeling for the only object she carried with her at all times besides her enchanted Galleon and wand. It was a photograph of Harry—the one she had torn from the _Daily Prophet_ weeks ago. She smoothed it out in her lap. He blinked sheepishly up at her, and she smiled.

They were going to make him proud.

Resolved, Ginny reached into her trunk, pulled out her last small amount of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and tucked it into her pocket with the photograph, and hurried off to the boys' dormitory. When she entered, Ginny's heart constricted.

She had seen this room before, when five people had lived in it. Now, it was down to Seamus and Neville—Parvati and Lavender sat on the end of Seamus's bed. Ginny's eyes lingered for a moment on the beds she knew had been Harry's and Ron's. Dean's West Ham football poster was gone from the wall, and like in Ginny's dormitory, the empty spaces took up more room than the occupants.

"Our duty starts in an hour, at eight." Neville said, drawing her out of her reverie. "You'll signal us at exactly eleven, Ginny. I've sent everyone else the message to meet in the Room of Requirement before then."

Seamus had taken the inkbottle from Lavender. "This is _brilliant_," he said. "Tell your brothers from me they're the greatest."

Ginny grinned.

"All right, all right, let's focus," Neville said, sounding harassed.

Parvati laid a hand on his arm. "Neville, it's going to be fine. We've got it planned down to the minute."

Neville met Ginny's eyes nervously, and she knew that he was thinking of their break-in to Snape's office as well. "That's what worries me."

The five of them went downstairs and arranged themselves in would-be casual positions around the common room. Ginny sat down at a table with Seamus and opened a textbook, trying to focus on her essay for Professor Sprout on the Venomous Tentacula. At five minutes to eight, Parvati and Neville left the common room without looking back at Ginny or anyone else.

When the portrait hole swung shut, Seamus caught her eye and grinned. "Got the flyers?"

She nodded, not looking up from her work, but lifting aside one of her books to reveal the stack of her printed newsletters, all signed with: _Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting_.

"You have to be careful tonight," she said under her breath, as a group of fourth years passed by.

"So do you."

Ginny shrugged. "They haven't left me bleeding and tied to a tree."

"Ouch, Weasley," Seamus laughed. She stared at him seriously. "Okay. Don't get worked up."

Two hours crawled by. Mercifully, thanks to the early curfew, the common room was empty by half past ten.

"Okay, we'll go together," Ginny said to Lavender and Seamus. "Quiet as you can, all right?" They clambered out of the portrait hole, past the snoozing Fat Lady, who barely twitched as they scarpered out of sight down the corridor.

It was only a few minutes to the Room of Requirement, and they were greeted by Terry, Michael, Susan, and Luna. Lavender showed everyone the Indelible Ink, and Ginny approached Luna.

"Sure you know how to do this?" she asked.

"We'll know when I try," Luna answered brightly, drawing her wand. "Lavender, you're first." Lavender, looking a little apprehensive, came to join them. Holding her tongue between her teeth, Luna rapped Lavender hard on top of the head with her wand.

Little by little, Lavender began to blend in with the bookshelf behind her, and Ginny knew that the Disillusionment Charm had worked.

"Wow," said Seamus, staring somewhere around Lavender's stomach. "She's gone."

"Brilliant, Luna, really great," Ginny said, patting her shoulder.

"That's weird!" said Michael. "Are you really going to show us how to do that?"

"If you'd like," Luna said. She looked at her watch. "We'd better pair off. It's nearly eleven."

Ginny reached into her pocket and pulled out her Galleon. She tapped it with her wand, and it glowed brighter, radiating heat, until it said: READY. Luna was moving down the line, Disillusioning people.

"Good work," said Ginny when she had finished with Seamus. "I'll do yours."

Luna faced her and closed her eyes. Ginny concentrated and raised her wand—a moment later, Luna had melted into her surroundings. "How peculiar," said her voice. "Lovely work, Ginny."

Ginny nodded in a satisfied way. She was not going to be Disillusioned; she had to be able to provide silent signals for the others. This was risky, but it was the best plan she had been able to come up with. Everyone else was searching for their partners.

"Lavender, where are—oh, there—"

"Oi, hands off, Boot," said Michael's disgruntled voice.

"Seamus, are you there?" asked Luna.

"Ouch, Luna, that was my foot!"

It was a bizarre sight—or lack thereof. Finally, at precisely five minutes after eleven, with everyone properly paired off, Ginny felt the coin in her pocket heat up again. She pulled it out and consulted it. Neville's message was short: GO.

"All right," she said. "Let's move. I'll lead—watch for my signals, and don't get ahead of me."

Quietly, she opened the door and slipped out into the corridor, ducking behind a suit of armor. A moment later, she saw the door shut.

"Ready," she whispered.

"Check," said Luna. "All clear."

Very slowly and calmly, Ginny began to walk down the hall, aware of the six people quietly tiptoeing behind her. She hugged the shadows; once she had asked Tonks about her training to become an Auror, and that had been her advice—_people look away from the dark because they don't want anything to be there_. All the same, Ginny gave a nervous swallow, the memory of her attempt to steal the sword of Gryffindor searing through her brain.

They met no one as they crept down six floors to the entrance hall, which was dark but for a few flickering torches. Moonlight streamed across the floor, illuminating the open doors to the Great Hall.

"Good luck," she whispered, feeling six people brush past her. "You've got seven minutes."

When she was satisfied that she was alone, Ginny hid herself behind one of the statues that flanked the doors and watched the great marble staircase for any signs of life. She looked down at her watch, hardly daring to move. The group inside had four more minutes.

Suddenly, on the upper landing of the sweeping staircase, there appeared two figures, dimly lit by the torchlight.

One of them gave a sudden sneeze; it was Neville, giving Ginny the signal that all was clear. That meant that the other figure had to be Parvati.

Ginny didn't peek out from her hiding place, just in case, but she was beside herself with excitement. The other prefects were keeping the teachers busy, and all was going right. She looked down at her watch. There were only thirty seconds left…

Suddenly, a cold hand seized hers.

Ginny nearly screamed; she had not been expecting Luna to come so close to her. Heart hammering, she muttered, "Everyone here?"

She felt Luna squeeze her hand again—yes.

"Follow me," Ginny whispered. She crept out of her hiding space, keeping an eye on Neville and Parvati, who were ambling away from the upper landing casually, their backs to Ginny.

Clinging to the shadows, she followed Neville and Parvati, leading the way down the corridor. They turned a corner, and she stopped, waiting, holding her breath—Neville sneezed. Ginny nodded and crept forward.

"Professor Carrow!"

Ginny's heart stopped. She spun about, her eyes darting all over the corridor for the Disillusioned people behind her.

"Scatter!" she hissed, and a moment later, she heard the soft rustling that she knew meant Luna and the others had run off. Ginny looked around—the nearest hiding space was behind an enormous vase, halfway down the hall.

"What're you up to?"

Alecto Carrow's voice was alarmingly close. Ginny bolted, reaching the alcove as she heard Parvati and Neville's footsteps heading down her corridor. She jammed herself behind the vase and froze in a crouch.

"We're finishing our patrol, Professor," said Parvati's voice. They were much closer now, but Ginny couldn't chance a peek to see just how close.

"Ya should've finished this floor," Alecto said suspiciously.

"Er—" Parvati stammered.

"We did this floor last, Professor," said Neville firmly. "We nearly forgot about it."

Ginny closed her eyes, holding her breath. She didn't move. There were several beats of silence.

"Get on with ya, then, on with ya," Alecto said coldly. "And mind it doesn't happen again."

"Right—sorry, Professor," said Parvati. A moment later, Ginny heard the sound of hers and Neville's departure.

She sucked in her breath further, hoping Alecto would leave soon, and not inspect the corridor. Ginny didn't dare move for almost a full five minutes, straining her ears for the slightest noise—Alecto seemed to be pacing back and forth.

A moment later, however, she heard the sound of Alecto's footsteps stumping away down the corridor. Nonetheless, she did not move for another five minutes, emerging only when the lighted torches in the corridor had dimmed, signaling an end to the prefects' duties.

Quickly and silently as she could manage it, Ginny darted for the nearest staircase and rushed up seven flights to the corridor that would take her to Gryffindor Tower.

"—Want to go with you!"

Ginny nearly gasped in fright—she would recognize that voice anywhere.

"How many different ways do I have to tell you I'm not interested in taking _you_?" Draco Malfoy hissed angrily.

"Draco," Pansy's voice whined.

The voices were coming closer, from just around the corner of the corridor where Ginny now stood. She looked all around for somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere in sight. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest—her only choice was to run as far from Draco and Pansy as she could.

"If I'm only getting one trip to Hogsmeade out of the Carrows, then it's hardly likely that I'd take you, now is it?" said Malfoy coldly.

Ginny bolted, sprinting off down the corridor, looking for anywhere she could hide.

"Is this about Daphne Greengrass' sister?" Pansy demanded angrily. She and Malfoy had rounded the corner, but Ginny was far ahead, already turned down a new hallway. "That little—"

"Shut up, Pansy," Malfoy said suddenly.

"Don't talk to me like that!" said Pansy, her voice rising hysterically. "Why are you—?"

"I said shut up—I think I heard something."

Ginny froze, looking wildly around for somewhere to hide. The closest place she could even hope of reaching was the Room of Requirement, at the end of the corridor. She could still hear Malfoy and Pansy behind her, ready to turn the corner and stumble across her. Without thinking for another moment, Ginny took off, reaching the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy in seconds.

_Let me in!_ she thought desperately, pacing rapidly before the blank stretch of wall three times—and then the door appeared.

"I don't see anything, Draco, come on!"

"Quiet!"

Malfoy and Pansy had appeared, just as Ginny flung open the door. She leapt through into the darkened room and closed the door quietly as possible, crouched beside the handle with her ear pressed against the wood.

"There's nothing here, Draco! We should have been back ten minutes ago," Pansy's voice whined.

There were several beats of silence, and Ginny could almost see Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed suspiciously at the blank wall where he knew the Room of Requirement ought to be.

"Fine," he said at last. "Let's go."

Ginny listened to their retreating footsteps and breathed a sigh of relief. Then, a pair of hands seized her shoulders, and she started to scream—she was cut off by a hand clapping over her mouth. She kicked and stomped her assailant's feet, fighting to get away—

"Ginny! Ow! Ouch, you lunatic, it's me! _Lumos!_"

"Neville," Ginny gasped, as a wand tip ignited, revealing that she had taken refuge inside the D.A.'s darkened practice room. Neville stood before her, panting as he held his wand aloft.

"Who did you think it was?" he demanded.

She shook her head. "You're supposed to be back in the common room."

"Parvati and Lavender helped me sneak out," he explained. "I'd heard back from everyone but you that they got safely to their common rooms, and I thought you might've been caught after Carrow cornered me and Parvati. I…" he blushed, looking down at his feet. "I wanted to…help you. If…you know…you needed it."

Ginny was feeling rather hot around the collar. "There's not much you could've done," she said, annoyed. "Now you've put yourself in more danger, coming here instead of just waiting for me."

"How was I supposed to know?" he asked, sounding hurt. He pulled his Galleon out of his pocket. "You're supposed to send a message if you get into trouble—you especially!" Then he paused, stammering for a moment. "I—I mean, you were the only one who wasn't Disillusioned! You could've taken the fall for the whole thing! What would they have done if they'd caught you?"

"Well, they didn't, Neville, and in case you haven't noticed, I can handle myself," Ginny snapped.

"Right, that's why you ended up here instead of Gryffindor Tower!" Neville retorted.

"That wasn't my fault!" she burst out. "Malfoy and Parkinson were out-of-bounds after duties ended, hanging out next to the Fat Lady! I would've been fine if they hadn't been there! Merlin's pants—I'm not a first year! You, my parents, my brothers—everybody's got some awful idea that I'll just up and expire on the floor if I'm not holding someone's hand for safety!"

"No one thinks that, Ginny," Neville said quietly.

"No, they do!" she answered, now feeling hot tears sting her eyes. "And I can ignore it, but when I'm doing things that I'm more than capable of dealing with _on my own_—that will only get more complicated when I have a _handler_," she spat at him, "I really kind of hate it." Feeling tears fill her eyes, she turned away from Neville and marched over to a chair that had appeared, sitting down.

He was quiet for several moments, unmoving. "That's why I took you to the ball, you know."

Ginny hastily wiped a tear from her cheek. "What?"

"I took you to the Yule Ball because you were a lot more independent than I was," said Neville. "You were a lot tougher than people saw. It's why I liked you. It's…it's why I do like you."

It felt as though a hand had seized Ginny's lungs and started squeezing. "Neville," she said. "I—I know…he's not here…but—I'm with Harry."

Neville was staring at the floor. He nodded. "I know. That doesn't stop it, but I get it. Well—I sort of do," he said. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry I've got us in danger tonight. You're right, this was my fault, you could've gotten back on your own."

Ginny folded her arms uncomfortably. "It's not that big of a deal," she said. "Come on, we should—"

"I'm sorry I tried to kiss you, too," he said. He came over to where she sat. "I shouldn't have done it."

Ginny sighed and stood, arms still crossed. She looked up at Neville. "You definitely shouldn't have," she agreed. "But you did."

"I'm really sor—"

Ginny held up a warning hand. "Worse things have happened. That's it." Neville nodded, still looking morose, and she gave him a smile. "Really, Neville, it's okay." He gave a slight grin. "Let's get back to the common room before another patrol comes our way," Ginny said, striding to the door and placing a hand on the knob. She paused, turning back to Neville. "Oh—you probably shouldn't try anything like that again, though. You're my friend—I'd hate to hex you."

Neville laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

"Ginny. _Ginny_. Oh, for heaven's sake, _Ginny!_"

"Whuhyuwan?" Ginny mumbled, burying her head beneath her pillow. "Goway." Her pillow was yanked away from her head, and she blinked painfully in the grayish light pouring in the window. "Issnowing," she squeaked, reaching for her blankets so that she might pull them over her head.

"Don't you want to see what the Great Hall looks like?" asked Parvati's excited voice from somewhere across the room. "Breakfast starts in half an hour."

Ginny sat bolt upright—she and Neville had stayed up talking, planning for the D.A. until nearly dawn, and though she had had only a few hours' sleep, the prospect of seeing the Carrows' faces when they encountered the scene in the Great Hall was enough to have her out of bed and pulling on her robes inside-out with excitement.

She righted herself and automatically felt in her pocket—her Galleon was there, and her wand was in her hand—but her photograph was missing. She looked around on the floor; Harry's picture was nowhere to be seen. Ginny frowned, pulling back the blankets and lifting the pillows on her bed. It was not there.

The others had not noticed.

"They're going to go mad," Lavender said with a nervous giggle, pulling a comb through her hair as she fumbled to get ready.

"We have to pretend like we don't notice it," Parvati insisted. "Just—like it's not even there."

"That's going to draw more attention," said Ginny, still looking around nervously. Then she pushed it from her mind. She could not worry about the picture now, when it would surely turn up later. "We'll just do what everyone else does."

The three of them headed down to breakfast together—Ginny and Neville had agreed that it would be best if they kept their distance from each other and from Luna today, just in case Professor McGonagall was watching.

"Right on time," Lavender muttered as they reached the top of the marble staircase in the entrance hall; sleep-tousled students were ambling into the Great Hall for an early meal. She led the way down the stairs, Ginny and Parvati behind her.

"Wow," Parvati said, stopping on the threshold.

There were perhaps fifty or so people in the Great Hall this early—Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector were the only staff present—and each and every pair of eyes was fixed on the wall behind the staff table, which bore a carefully-wrought legend in shimmering violet ink.

DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY  
STILL RECRUITING

"Ha!" Ginny laughed under her breath, clapping a hand over her mouth. "That looks amazing!" she whispered to Lavender, who grinned.

"Thanks."

"Dumbledore's Army?" asked one curious first year Ravenclaw. He turned to his friend, a curly-haired second year. "What's that?"

But others were not so confused, and they were hurriedly explaining to their younger classmates.

"This is brilliant!" shouted a Hufflepuff boy, bolting forward to examine the graffiti.

Ginny chanced a glance away from her shocked pretense to see the staff table. Professor Sinistra looked torn between tears and laughter, and was deep in conversation with Professor Vector, who nodded hurriedly and took off from the Great Hall.

"Vector's gone to get the Heads of House," Ginny guessed out loud. "Better sit down, quick." She, Lavender, and Parvati hurried over to the Gryffindor table, where Ginny chose a seat far from the other two, but closest to the enormous script on the wall.

The Great Hall was filling up. There were joyous shouts of recognition and surprise as students who were entering saw the graffiti and began to discover Ginny's leaflets hidden beneath the tables—Professor Sinistra was now standing directly before the graffiti, muttering as she waved her wand over the ink, which would not budge.

Ginny grinned to herself; the ink was impervious to anything but the potion Fred and George had invented for it. It would fade on its own in no less than two weeks.

More and more people were arriving—Professor Vector had rejoined Professor Sinistra, and the two of them were frantically trying to remove the enormous words from the stone wall as the entire student body laughed and chattered excitedly, passing newsletters back and forth under the tables, out of sight.

"Out of the way! Stebbins, _move_!"

"Miss Fawcett, go along now!"

Ginny looked around—one behind the other, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor Slughorn, and Professor McGonagall came barreling over the threshold of the hall—Flitwick gave a strangled gasp, but ran forward and began trying to assist Professors Vector and Sinistra, who looked thoroughly distressed. Slughorn, puffing and wheezing, wiped his brow with an emerald green silk handkerchief, apparently shocked beyond all belief, and Professor Sprout looked sick with fear.

But Ginny's eyes were on Professor McGonagall, whose mouth was hanging open slightly as she one hand held over her heart. Even through her stunned disbelief, however, the tiniest glimmer of a smile was starting to show—a moment later, McGonagall clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling what was unmistakably a frightened laugh.

With the appearance of the teachers, Ginny could see the pamphlets disappearing into her classmates' bags—people were Vanishing them, tucking them into books, or magically disguising them to be saved for perusal later. The staff didn't seem to notice—all of them were now gathered beneath the graffiti, apparently trying to figure out how to remove it from the wall.

It seemed that nearly the entire school was present—the volume and atmosphere in the Great Hall was the highest it had been all year. Ginny beamed and looked up the table to Parvati, who looked a bit tearful as she poured pumpkin juice for a very bewildered Evelyn Alistair (who made it a habit to eat all of her meals with Parvati).

"This is amazing!" Jimmy Peakes cried, sitting down opposite Ginny. "Look at it!"

"I saw," said Ginny, trying to sound equally stunned. "I can't believe it—"

Up and down the table, people were chattering.

"D'you reckon they'd let me join? I did all right on my O.W.L.s last year…"

"You couldn't cast a Shield Charm if you had a self-spelling wand, you prat…"

"I could learn!"

Meanwhile the professors were becoming more and more frustrated with their efforts to erase the writing. McGonagall's momentary expression of happiness had vanished, and she was looking rather tense and nervous again, now that she had seen that the writing appeared to be permanent. Professor Vector was actually trying to scrub at the ink with her sleeve. "This—ink—won't—come—_Tergeo! Scourgify! Obliviate!_"

"A memory charm, Septima?" asked Professor Sinistra.

Ginny snorted into her cereal, pretending she hadn't heard; she was carefully avoiding Professor McGonagall's eyes while also occasionally looking up at the mural with mild confusion and interest. The din of excited laughter and conversation was nearly deafening, but the teachers were unconcerned.

Professor Flitwick threw his hands up in frustration. "What are we going to do when—?"

BANG!

Ginny dropped her spoon and clapped her hands over her ears as several more loud cracks split the air. Her ears ringing, she looked to the double doors of the Great Hall. Standing on the threshold, wand raised, was Snape, flanked on either side by the Carrows. Total silence filled the hall, an eerie quiet so starkly different from just moments before that it sent a shiver up Ginny's spine.

All of the teachers had frozen where they stood, beneath the stubbornly unmoving graffiti. Professor McGonagall was taking slow, even breaths, her beady eyes sharp and fixed on Snape.

He was slowly approaching the head table, eyes fixed coldly on the violet cursive before him. Every student had their eyes on him and the Carrows, who were glaring all around the hall, searching for the guilty party; Ginny was irresistibly reminded of trained dogs catching a scent.

Snape reached the staff table and stared up at the writing on the wall, blinking slowly. He turned and faced the students.

"Who is responsible for this?"

His voice was a whisper, but it seemed to echo through the Great Hall nonetheless. No one moved a muscle.

"Who—is—_responsible_?" Snape shouted, and several people jumped. His glittering black eyes flickered all over the hall, searching for something. They rested on the Gryffindor table. Ginny didn't move a muscle, but she felt as though Snape were looking directly into her eyes. She remembered what Harry had once told her about Occlumency with Snape, and diverted her gaze quickly.

All eyes in the hall were now on the Gryffindors, who seemed like an even smaller group than usual under the intense scrutiny.

"Very well," Snape said sharply, taking a breath. "Very well—Professor Carrow!"

Amycus stepped forward, a cruel smile on his face. "I think that's a detention for Gryffindor House—"

There was a cry of outrage from the table.

"You can't do that!"

"For what?"

"What are you playing at, you great stupid—"

"Headmaster!" Professor McGonagall barked, appealing to Snape. "You can't—"

"SILENCE!" Snape roared, and his wand let off another bang. A hush fell over the hall again.

Alecto was slowly approaching the Gryffindor table, her expression one of sickly sweetness. "Unless somebody's goin' to own up. If one of ye admits what ye've done, then the rest of ye are all right…" Her eyes rested on Ginny for a moment, and she felt a thrill of horror. Did the Carrows know something?

Alecto came to a halt directly in front of Evelyn Alistair, who was trembling from head to foot beside Parvati, who had an arm around her. Alecto reached into her pocket, and Ginny clenched her fist around her wand—but Alecto had produced a piece of paper. She was unfurling it; it looked very worn and creased. Ginny squinted—it was a photograph.

Her stomach dropped.

It was her own photograph, the one of Harry that she had to have lost the night before—perhaps right outside the Great Hall. Automatically, she put a hand to her pocket—where could she have lost it?—but then she realized her mistake. Amycus's eyes had caught her sudden movement.

He bared his uneven teeth in a grimace, nudged his sister, and nodded to Ginny, who had frozen again. Alecto grinned vilely, but turned back and held the picture before Evelyn. "Ye ever seen this before, Alistair?" she barked.

Evelyn shook her head hurriedly. She looked ready to cry.

"What about you, O'Brien? Who's this belong to?" Alecto snapped at Josephine, who was ashen. She too shook her head. Alecto continued down the table, the picture still held aloft. "What about the rest of ye? Who's seen this before, eh? Only, see, we found it out-of-bounds last night…and we want ter give it back."

Ginny closed her eyes. She had dropped the photograph in the entrance hall. There was no other explanation. Taking a deep breath, she glanced down the table at Neville, who was watching her. "I'm sorry," she mouthed.

Then she stood up. "It's mine, Professor."

She knew immediately that she had not surprised them; both Carrows looked quite satisfied, as did Snape.

"Bring her to my office," he said dismissively, sweeping down from the head table. Ginny stared down at the stones on the floor, feeling her neck and ears turning steadily more scarlet.

"C'mon, Weasley," said Alecto's vice, directly beside her. "Move it along." She gave Ginny a sharp jab with the tip of her wand.

Ginny was escorted silently from the Great Hall, flanked by both Carrows, who kept their wands out. She kept her head up and her gaze unmoving even as she was aware of everyone's eyes upon her. Her mind was working furiously, trying to gauge how much the Carrows could know if they had deduced that Harry's picture was hers.

"I think it's gonna be a coupla weeks' detention," Alecto said nastily, as they climbed the marble staircase. Ginny said nothing. "It'll be nice ta have ye back, Weasley," she said silkily. "We've been waitin' for ye."

Ginny's mind was flying at breakneck speed. She could argue that she had lost the photograph at another time, but if she lied about having nothing to do with the defacement of the Great Hall, or tried to escape punishment, Snape would stop at nothing until he punished everyone else he even thought might be in Dumbledore's Army…

There was the sound of scraping stone. She looked up; they had already arrived at the gargoyle outside Snape's office. Alecto prodded her forward, and Ginny climbed the steps. Professor Snape was waiting for her. With a jolt, she saw that Professor Dumbledore's portrait hung directly above his head, and was watching her serenely.

Ginny stood directly in the center of the room, before the desk. Alecto scurried forward and placed Harry's photograph on the desktop, while Amycus went to shut the door—

"Go," Snape said coldly. The Carrows looked around. "Go. I'll speak to Miss Weasley alone."

"What?" Alecto asked stupidly. Ginny repressed a snort.

"I will speak to Miss Weasley alone," said Snape, a bit more loudly. "You are both dismissed."

"Hold on, now," Amycus began, but Snape shot him a cold look, and he fell silent.

Grumbling and throwing Ginny filthy looks, the Carrows left the office, shutting the door behind them. Ginny was left alone, staring up at a point just above Professor Snape's head.

"So," he said quietly after a few moments. "_So._" Ginny forced herself not to look at him, but continued to stare at the golden frame of Professor Dumbledore's painting. "Explain yourself."

Ginny glanced at the photograph lying on the desk before her. "Professor Carrow said she'd like to return my photograph to me," she said calmly. "May I have it? _Sir?_"

Professor Snape picked up the picture, glaring down at it, his lip curled in distaste. "A touching memento," he said. Then he crumpled it into a ball and threw it aside. "With whom did you vandalize the Great Hall last night?" he asked sharply.

Ginny frowned, putting on an expression of deep thought. "Vandalize the Great Hall?" she asked. "What do I have to do with that?"

Snape turned white. "That photograph was turned in to Professor Carrow early this morning, Weasley. It's proof that you were there—"

"Of course I was there," she interrupted loudly. "Yesterday, for dinner. I must have dropped it then."

"Do not lie!" Snape shouted. "You have reformed Potter's illegal group, and you have been caught red-handed!"

"I haven't been caught doing anything!" Ginny retorted, though her brain was trying to figure out who could possibly have found and turned in the photograph.

"Don't take that tone with me, Weasley," he said, his voice suddenly becoming dangerously soft. "I can punish you, your friends, and your entire House, if I think that any of them had something to do with this. Insubordination, disregard for the rules put in place for your protection—neither will be tolerated for another moment." Ginny stared coldly back at him. "You, and the rest of Gryffindor House have been given a great deal of freedom in recent years. I won't stand for it."

"Is that why our first years are being treated like criminals for being late to class? It's been a while since I saw a Slytherin with a mark on him," Ginny said loudly. "Sir."

"I won't warn you again, Weasley," he said coolly. "Do not speak to me like that."

Ginny narrowed her eyes, staring unblinkingly into his, and slowly raised one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her left ear—the same ear that Snape had cursed off of George.

Professor Snape went even paler. "Who else damaged the Great Hall?" he demanded. Ginny said nothing. "Either you'll tell me now, or all of Gryffindor House receives detention until someone comes forward. As long as it takes," he added. "The rest of term, if need be."

"You can't do that," Ginny said automatically, but she was not so sure; there was something twisted in Snape's expression that suggested he very well could. She looked up at the portrait of Professor Dumbledore, but he was staring gravely at his own hands, and didn't seem to be paying any attention to the conversation below.

Snape's lip was curling unpleasantly. "For the last time, Weasley," he said. "I know you've brought back Dumbledore's Army. Who is helping you?"

Ginny's mouth had gone dry.

"Now, Weasley," said Professor Snape lightly. "Or Gryffindor House pays for your unhelpfulness."

"No one," Ginny blurted out. "There's no army. It's me alone."

"You're lying," Snape spat. "Very well, if you're—"

The office door banged open, startling Ginny, and she spun around. Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway.

She rushed forward. "Headmaster, there is no reason to suspect Miss Weasley—"

"I'm afraid there is, Professor McGonagall," Snape cut her off, as a cold smile curled his lip. "Miss Weasley has just confessed to defacing the Great Hall—" he met her eyes. "Alone."

Professor McGonagall's jaw dropped. "Is—is this true?" she asked Ginny. "You—you did that—downstairs—yourself?"

Ginny closed her eyes, dropping her head.

Before Professor McGonagall could do more than stammer in disbelief, Snape interrupted again. "I believe that's two weeks' detention, Miss Weasley. And fifty points from Gryffindor," he said coldly.

"Two weeks!" Professor McGonagall gasped. "Headmaster, I—"

"Your opinion is not necessary, Professor, thank you," he snapped, eyes still on Ginny. "Miss Weasley will serve detention for the next two weeks, and I will be writing to her family."

He was still watching Ginny closely, as though he expected her to crack and confess everything. She held her gaze evenly upon Professor Dumbledore's frame, though she felt tears of fury stinging the corners of her eyes.

Snape scowled. "Miss Weasley is to remain in her dormitory," he said. "She will receive incomplete marks for all of her lessons today, Professor McGonagall, is that understood? And you will speak to no one else until you report to Professor Carrow for your detention this evening," he added to Ginny. "You may rejoin your classmates tomorrow morning."

Ginny swallowed hard and nodded once, determined not to give in to Snape's bait.

"Very well," he said. "Escort her to Gryffindor Tower, Professor McGonagall." Snape sat down behind his desk and did not look up again as Ginny left the office.

It was not until they were a good distance away that Professor McGonagall spoke.

"I can't imagine what would have possessed you to do something like this, Miss Weasley," she said in a low voice. "I need hardly say that I am past disappointment."

Ginny did not speak. They rounded the corner, heading for the Fat Lady's corridor. Professor McGonagall stopped just outside the portrait and faced her.

"Look at me, Miss Weasley," she said. Reluctantly, Ginny obeyed. Professor McGonagall looked torn between anger and pity. "I think it is obvious that I have very little say in how you are punished," she said, her nostrils going white. "I advise you, therefore, to warn anyone who may attempt to…copy you…that this would be very poor judgment." She put emphasis on the last three words.

Ginny nodded. She was too miserable to speak.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Come to my classroom during your free period tomorrow afternoon," she said briskly. "I'll allow you to make up today's lesson."

"What?" Ginny stammered. She looked up at Professor McGonagall. Her heavy brows were knit, and her gaze was intense, but there was something like pride glimmering behind the stern gaze. Ginny smiled, very slightly and very gratefully.

"You heard me, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. Ginny nodded. "Off you go, then."

"_Lacum leonis_," she said to the Fat Lady, and the portrait swung forward.

* * *

"Up."

Ginny picked herself up off the floor, shaking and weak, but determined not to show it. She wasn't sure if she was building up a resistance to the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, or if the Carrows were simply taking it easy on her because they wanted their questions answered.

She was in the same dungeon where she had served her first detention—it was empty now, but for several sets of chains attached to the walls. Ginny wouldn't have been surprised if they were meant for other students who had been unfortunate enough to find themselves in detention. She was on all fours in the middle of the floor, trying to steady herself. A hand seized the scruff of her robes and hauled her to her feet. The Carrows' pallid, lumpy faces swam before her as tiny sparks of light danced in the corners of her vision.

"Have you been talkin' to Harry Potter?" Alecto demanded.

Ginny closed her eyes and shook her head. "Haven't seen him…in months…"

"Where'd ye get the newspaper with his picture, then?" Amycus asked her.

She forced her eyes open and glared at him. "Found it," she spat.

"There ain't any newspapers to find round here, girl," Alecto said, raising her wand. "Who's been sneakin' it in for ye?"

Ginny said nothing and looked away, bracing herself for what she knew was coming.

"_Crucio!_"

She dropped onto her knees, tightening into a ball until couldn't hold it back any longer; she screamed. It was the only way she had of convincing herself that she was still alive, because every nerve in her body was coursing with fire, and she was going to be sick at any moment from the agony—and then the pain was gone. She retched, hunched over on her knees, though nothing came up. She had not eaten all day.

"Wonder why she wants a picture, eh?" Alecto asked Amycus in a light tone, walking around Ginny. "Can't possibly imagine…"

"Sure, them blood traitors _love_ Potter, don't they?" Amycus said stupidly, nudging Ginny in the ribs with his foot. She collapsed onto her side, drawing shaky breaths. "S'right, Weasley. We know your family, don't we?"

Ginny stared coldly up at him and forced herself to get up, pulling herself up against the wall. "You don't scare me," she snapped.

"_Crucio!_"

Alecto's curse may have been more painful, but Amycus's was well aimed, and hit Ginny exactly where she already hurt most. She fell over immediately, screaming, and when the pain stopped, she felt tears on her cheeks. She lay curled on her side, hugging her knees to her chest as she shook uncontrollably.

"It don't matter," Amycus said, leaning over her. "I've got the wand here—I say what happens."

Ginny was dragging herself to her feet again, leaning against the dungeon wall. "Not for long," she retorted. "Just wait."

"Ah, ah, ah, Weasley," Alecto said, stepping forward. "Can't have ye threatening teachers—_Crucio!_"

Ginny's screams echoed off the walls of the dungeon, fading into silence long before they could reach the ears of anyone who cared.


	9. Chapter 9

"Are you all right?"

Ginny opened her eyes, looking around at him. She had just returned to the Gryffindor common room from yet another night of detention, aching and stiff, to get a start on her homework and accidentally started to doze off in her armchair beside Neville's. "M'fine." She sat forward and picked up her bag, groaning. "I've got an essay for McGonagall due tomorrow."

"You should go to bed," Neville said, but Ginny glared at him. Immediately, he swelled up angrily. "What? If we're right, and McGonagall's guessed what the Carrows are up to, she'd let you pass on a homework assignment or two."

"What's your problem?" she asked, surprised.

Neville huffed. "Sorry. They just—Carrow really laid into Parvati today in Muggle Studies and I—I'm just about done with them. I really am. They got you yesterday, and we couldn't do anything, and—I don't know—just—" There was something in the way he set his jaw, and his tense posture, that made Ginny see something she never had before.

"You look like your grandmother, Neville, you know that?" she interrupted.

Neville looked up, startled. "What?"

Ginny laughed at his affronted tone. "I mean, you don't really look like her—but—just now, when you were talking…"

"What?" Neville urged her.

She sighed. "Two years ago…you know, when…when we were visiting my dad in St. Mungo's…"

Neville's hand clenched his textbook, but he said nothing.

"And we met your grandmother," Ginny continued quickly, "She got this look on her face—I think—I think she was saying…"

"Saying what?" Neville asked, though his voice was quite soft now, and he looked somehow afraid.

Ginny swallowed. "She…she told you that you should be proud of what—what your parents had done. And she had this look in her eye that—that I just saw in your face, now. I didn't understand it then, but I do now." She sat forward suddenly, putting a hand on his arm. "Do you know how brave you are, Neville?"

Neville was staring at a hole in the threadbare carpet, unblinking, and Ginny thought that she had perhaps said something very wrong.

"N-Neville?"

"Thanks, Ginny," he muttered quietly.

She smiled, but her instinct told her that Neville didn't wish to carry on the conversation. She fell silent for quite a while, turning to her Transfiguration homework. Before long, however, her back and head began to ache, and she was finding it difficult to concentrate. After the fourth time she changed positions in her chair, Neville spoke.

"You look terrible."

She gave him a wry smile. "I appreciate that, Neville, thanks."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he blurted out suddenly. "I'm so sorry, you—you don't deserve to be doing this—we should've—"

"Neville," Ginny interrupted him, holding up a hand. "It was _me_ that left evidence, not you lot. There's no sense in all of us getting caught. Why would we give them that? It's worth people believing in Dumbledore's Army again to take detention."

Neville shrugged morosely. Then a slight smile crept onto his features "You know, people were really excited when they figured out we'd been doing the newsletters? The entire fifth year was talking about it when they walked out of Herbology."

Ginny nodded. "Then it's worth it," she said firmly.

"Listen," he said, lowering his voice and looking around the common room. "I'm going to call a D.A. meeting, one night this week. We need to regroup—"

"What? N-no—Neville, you can't!" said Ginny. "No—all they did tonight was ask me questions about Harry, and Dumbledore's Army—if they catch you having a meeting—"

Neville looked uncomfortable. "They—they can't catch us…if they're…busy," he said grimly.

"Oh," said Ginny in a small voice. "Right—I—" She shook herself. "Well, I'll keep them busy, then," she said. "They won't have a moment's rest," she added jokingly, but Neville looked a bit nauseated, so she changed the subject. "I—I think, in that case, I should avoid talking to you all—just at meals, you know? If they really believe I'm all alone, maybe they won't look so hard for you."

"D'you really think they buy that?" Neville asked. He sounded rather amazed at the Carrows' stupidity.

"They have to, for now, there's no reason for them to think anything else. And they're complete idiots, that helps," she added as an afterthought.

Neville didn't smile. "I can't believe they've got you for two weeks," he muttered.

Ginny shook her head; she was trying to keep it from her mind, for the time being. "Not now."

"Sorry," Neville said again quietly.

She drew a deep, calming breath. "It's worth it."

This was the only thought that allowed her to limp through the next week. At mealtimes, she ate alone in order to avoid the attention of the Carrows, but her resolve was bolstered every time she looked up and saw them sitting sulkily beneath DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY: STILL RECRUITING emblazoned above the head table in the Great Hall. Even after a week, the graffiti still had not begun to fade, glimmering as brightly violet and resistant to removal as ever.

And as a result, a wild kind of thrill spread among the students that refused to disappear. They clung to the rumor of the existence of Dumbledore's Army with fervent admiration. A swell of excitement flew through the corridors, lightening the atmosphere within the castle to the highest it had been all of term.

A few days into her punishment, Ginny sank stiffly into an armchair before the Gryffindor fire. She was so nauseated she wasn't sure if she would be able to get any work done at all. She looked around; Neville and Parvati sat at a table in the corner, poring over Herbology notes. Neville gave Ginny a small wave, which she acknowledged with a half-nod before facing the fire again.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her stomach. It was, perhaps, nice to keep telling herself that the air of excitement and rebellion within the castle was worth her detention, but when her head pounded as it did right now, pushing all thoughts of her Charms homework from her mind, it was difficult to believe.

"Ginny?"

She opened her eyes reluctantly. Josephine O'Brien and Evelyn Alistair stood before her, beaming and giggling.

"What is it?" Ginny asked kindly.

"We—we heard Professor Carrow is giving you detention," Evelyn said. "For—you know—in the Great Hall."

"We think it's cool that you did it!" Josephine piped up. She pulled her hand out from behind her back, where she had been hiding an enormous box of Chocolate Frogs. "We wanted to give you these—"

"We've been collecting them all through term," Evelyn explained. "And we—we thought they might make you feel a bit better."

"You don't deserve to be in trouble for standing up to them," said Josephine firmly. She pressed the box into Ginny's hands before she could do more than gape at them.

"I—thank you," she said, overwhelmed.

"You'll be okay, Ginny," said Evelyn, throwing her arms around Ginny's neck suddenly. She winced, patting Evelyn's back, and then accepted a hug from Josephine, before she was finally left alone again. She looked down in her lap at the box of candy. The very sight of it filled her with a tiny balloon of happiness, indestructible even by the thought of her next detention.

It soon became widely known that Ginny Weasley was being punished every night for defacing the Great Hall, and it earned her a kind of martyred celebrity in the school. People whispered behind their hands as she passed them in the corridors, and once or twice, she was approached by a few older students who wanted to know when Dumbledore's Army would give out more news, and what else they knew.

Unfortunately, Ginny was largely prohibited from passing along any information at all—she had the distinct feeling that she was being closely watched by the Carrows. They seemed to always be in her line of sight, as though they expected to catch her organizing a meeting of the D.A. in the middle of the Charms corridor.

After a full week of detention, Ginny's knees and palms were black and blue from all the times she collapsed onto the stone floor of the dungeon, she had a headache that took up permanent residence at the back of her skull, throbbing when she moved even slightly, and even the happiness she felt at seeing her classmates' improved attitudes could do nothing to alleviate her feelings.

Ginny stumbled into her dormitory, sore and shaking so badly that she was barely able to stand. Parvati and Lavender were both soundly sleeping. All of Ginny's energy and strength seemed to have been sucked out of her by the Cruciatus Curse; she collapsed, fully clothed, onto her bed, and lay motionless for a moment.

Then, with monumental effort, she rolled over onto her side, burying herself in her blankets. Ginny drew her knees up to her chest and gave a quiet sniffle. Her eyes grew hot with tears, and she squeezed them tightly shut, curling up into a tight, painful, trembling ball. She stayed like that for nearly half an hour, quivering slightly as she held her knees tightly in her arms.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder.

"Ginny? It—it's Parvati."

Ginny took a moment, evening out her breath and making sure her tears were hidden before she finally turned over again and sat up. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Parvati smiled sadly at her. "They kept you late tonight," she whispered. Ginny looked away.

"They had some Ravenclaws who broke curfew," she said quietly.

"How are you?" Parvati asked quietly, staring at her. "We haven't talked much."

Ginny shrugged, but winced. "I'm fine," she said.

Parvati drew her legs up onto Ginny's bed, crossing them. "I don't just mean the Carrows," she said. "You—you've been through a lot more than most of us this year." Ginny said nothing. "How's Ron?"

Ginny stared at her, frowning confusedly. "What—oh—er, I think…he's feeling a bit better," she lied, though she imagined that Parvati had noticed her momentary slip. "I mean, he's at home and everything, and Mum's been…taking care of him…"

"I was thinking about him today," Parvati said, shaking her head. "I don't know why. Probably because I was with Neville and Seamus. That always reminds me of the boys…Dean…Ron…and Harry," she admitted.

Ginny's heart clenched. "I'll—I'll tell Ron you say hello when I'm home for Christmas," she said in a choked voice.

Parvati nodded, and fell into a pensive silence for a moment. Then her expression cleared. "I fed Arnold for you," she said. "He was squeaking so much."

"Sorry," Ginny mumbled, turning and hooking her fingers in Arnold's cage. He was sprawled on his back, giving faint, squeaking snores as he slept in a patch of moonlight.

"No, no," Parvati said. "I just meant—I think he misses you."

Ginny felt a lump rise in her throat. "It's better that it's just one of us getting detention," she said quietly. "Better that it's not Seamus, or Neville…or you and Lavender…"

Parvati was watching her closely. "We had a D.A. meeting tonight," she said. "Everyone is amazed that you stood up for all of us. And we want to help you out."

"Thanks," Ginny said morosely. "But I don't think there's much—"

"Oh, we've got ideas," said Parvati dismissively. "Don't worry about it."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "No—you can't do anything that's going to get you all in trouble—you've got to wait till my detention's over."

"No, Ginny," Parvati said firmly. "You've done enough for us. It's our turn. Besides, we didn't get caught the last time, and I think we can do it again." She stood up and hurried over to her side table to retrieve something. "Oh. Here, this arrived for you a couple of hours ago. I don't think it's been opened by the Carrows," she added, handing Ginny a sealed scroll of parchment.

Ginny took it. "Parvati," she said, and Parvati stopped at the foot of her bed. "Please, please don't let anyone else put themselves in trouble," she pleaded. "I'm not worth it."

An odd expression stole over Parvati's face. "Yeah, Ginny, you are." They stared at each other for a moment. Parvati seemed to see that Ginny was thoroughly unconvinced. "Okay, look. The next meeting is the day after tomorrow. Sunday afternoon, all right? Let's just talk about it, together."

After a moment, Ginny nodded.

"Good," said Parvati.

And she climbed back into bed without another word. Ginny sighed and shakily got out of bed. She put on her nightgown and combed her fingers through her hair, her head throbbing. By the time she finally got in bed, Parvati was soundly sleeping again.

Ginny slumped back onto her pillows and unsealed her scroll. Her heart leapt; it was a letter in Bill's handwriting.

_Ginny,_

_Mum and Dad asked me to write to you. They're fine, just busy. They got Professor Snape's letter about you vandalizing the Great Hall. Mum was pretty furious, but don't you worry—she knows there's got to be more to the story, so she's waiting until Christmas to lock you in the broom shed._

_Actually, the truth is that everyone here is anxious to have you home. Fred and George are all right. They're still managing to sell everything in the store, but I've got no idea how. They've bought Mum a really nice set of dress robes for Christmas. She and Dad are fine, too, but Dad's been working too much and I think Charlie's losing his marbles trapped in the Burrow all the time. I got him a job at Gringotts, so that helps a bit, and he was talking about staying with Fred and George for a while. By the way, Fleur and I won't be at Christmas. I'm really sorry, but we want to be together. I'll still see you while you're here, I promise. Maybe I'll even pick you up at King's Cross! We all send our love, and Fleur says to tell you she can't wait to see you._

_Seriously though, Ginny, I don't know what's going on up there, but I know I'm worried about you. We all are, and I know if Mum and Dad could have their way and get out of the new rules, they'd keep you home and not send you back to school next term. I imagine the mail is being watched, so hopefully this'll find you at night and that'll be enough to stop it from being read or stopped from reaching you._

_Keep holding on, all right?_

_I'm proud of you,_

_Bill_

Ginny gave a small, dry sob, and clutched the note to her chest. It was so wonderfully plain and ordinary—a few words of encouragement and love, and a bunch of nonsense about her family—that she was torn between laughter and tears. The idea that she could still be in trouble with her mother, and that Fred and George were off buying themselves matching dragon skin boots, and that Fleur was excited to see her—it filled her heart with unimaginable joy.

She ran her thumb over Bill's signature once, placed the scroll on her bedside table, and curled up beneath her blankets, falling asleep instantly.

* * *

"I can't make any sense of this," Luna said, shaking her head and frowning. "Dad must have mixed up the code or something." She pushed the parchment before Ginny, who looked at the extremely short letter from Mr. Lovegood.

They were in the midst of the D.A. meeting. It was Sunday afternoon, only five days before break, and she had only a few short hours until she had to report to the Carrows for her next night of detention. Her headache was now perpetual, and throbbed painfully as she looked at the parchment.

"Er, Luna," she said slowly, "I don't think there's a code in this one."

"What?" Luna asked. "No, Dad wouldn't—why would he just stop giving us news?"

Ginny shook her head slowly, sliding the letter back to her. "Maybe there's nothing to report."

Luna looked deeply disturbed. "What are we supposed to do this week, then?"

"Why don't we practice?" Ginny asked, nodding to the other members of the D.A., who were all working on Stunning and Shield Charms. She laid both hands on the table and pushed herself stiffly into a standing position—then she sank back into the chair. "Ouch—okay, in a minute," she said.

Luna wasn't listening; she was still frowning worriedly at the tabletop, tracing small circles onto it with her fingertips. After a long period of silence, she looked up at Ginny and said, "I suppose you're right—there must not be any news."

Ginny shook her head and smiled.

"I did want to give the Carrows a good reason to take some of their attention off of you," Luna said wistfully.

Ginny stiffened. "What?"

"Well," Luna said, "If they caught me putting out the news, they'd have to be easier on you—they'd have what they wanted, proof that there are more of us."

"No," said Ginny fiercely. "No, Luna, you can't do that. That's what I wanted to talk to all of you about."

Luna blinked. "Why not?"

"Why not!" Ginny sputtered. "You can't be serious! You can't put yourself in danger for my sake!"

"You've done that for us." Neville had stopped trying to Stun Michael Corner, and they were both staring at Ginny. "You took the blame when Snape wanted to get all the Gryffindors."

"No!" said Ginny. "You can't. I don't want you all going through this, too, that's why I took the blame!"

Everyone had stopped dueling. They were facing Luna, Ginny, and Neville, watching the argument unfold.

"Ginny," Luna said gently, putting a hand on hers. "That's the point—we want to—"

"I don't care what you want!" Ginny said, yanking her hand away. "I told you, I don't want you—"

"Who says you get to make that choice?" Seamus demanded. "We're an Army—it's time we took some responsibility and acted like it. Besides, you get to spend every night swearing at the Carrows—that's just not fair."

"You're hilarious," Ginny snarled.

Neville stepped forward. "Ginny, we're planning something else to distract the Carrows, and it's not up to you. It's hardly even about you, actually. We want to scare them, to show them we really are here."

"And we want to show the rest of the school, too," Luna said. "That sign in the Great Hall doesn't mean anything if we don't back it up."

Ginny glared at her—she felt certain that most of this was Luna's planning.

"Ginny, I'm sorry," Parvati said, stepping forward. "But you don't get a say this time. We're going to do this, whether you want it or not."

Ginny sighed, closing her eyes. "I wish you wouldn't," she said quietly.

"But you understand?" Neville asked.

She nodded. "I get it. I'm going to detention now." Stiffly, she got up and limped to the door, leaving without another word.

Over the next couple of days, Ginny went from class to class and ate meals alone, in small part because she was still feeling a bit frosty towards Luna, but also because it seemed that the Carrows were keeping particularly close watch on her now that her detentions were dwindling away, as though they expected her to finally crack and start pointing out her classmates as her accomplices.

Her only joys came from seeing the D.A.'s graffiti still written clearly on the wall above the Carrows' heads at mealtimes, where it had only just begun to fade, and from Bill's letter, which, having learned from her mistake with Harry's photograph, she kept locked in her trunk and pulled out every night to read before she slept. Parvati and Lavender encouraged her to keep this up, as it usually put her in a very good mood, and she would stop trying to convince them to tell her what Dumbledore's Army was trying to do next.

On the day before term ended, Ginny woke with a feeling that she couldn't quite name until she was sitting at the breakfast table, staring at the words written on the wall. She realized, with a jolt of recognition, that it was hope; it was such a rare experience now, that she had nearly forgotten how it felt to look forward to anything.

Now, though, she was on the brink of her final night of detention, in addition to the prospect of seeing her family in two days' time, and she couldn't quite repress a smile as she went to her classes that day.

"You look happy," Luna said, as Professor Flitwick escorted their class to Herbology.

Ginny shrugged. She was still a bit annoyed with Luna for letting the D.A. even think of planning something to upset the Carrows, though she had not been avoiding her entirely. "It's just a good day," she said briskly, tugging her cloak tightly about herself in the snowy air. They had crunched through thick drifts of snow that had fallen overnight all the way to the greenhouse before Ginny noticed that Luna looked slightly disturbed.

"Luna?" she asked. Luna raised her protuberant eyes, and Ginny saw that there were faint dark shadows beneath them, as though she had not slept properly. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, thank you."

Ginny bit her lip, shifting her weight from foot to foot as they stood outside the greenhouse, waiting to be let in. "Look, Luna, if this is about the other day, I'm really sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have gotten angry that you all wanted to—you know—but I'm glad you listened to what I said and haven't done anything. I'm sorry if I haven't been acting like it."

Luna blinked, looking a little surprised. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that, actually," she said honestly. She dropped her voice. "We're still planning to do something tonight."

"What?" A bit of anger was rising again in Ginny. "Then—_Luna!_" she said furiously. "What if they catch you and decide to punish all of us?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "If they find out that Dumbledore's Army exists outside of me, they're going to go straight to you, Seamus, and Neville. I haven't given you up for two weeks—how could you possibly think this is a good idea?"

"We have to give everyone hope, Ginny," Luna said calmly, though her tone was very firm. "Our marks in Great Hall are starting to fade, and people are going to forget, or stop believing we're here. We'll take any risks we have to, and you know it. Since Dad—" she broke off, swallowing for a moment. "Since Dad hasn't given us anything for a newsletter, what we're doing tonight is the only way we have to give people hope. That's worth detention. You know that, and if it was one of us in your position, you would be doing the exact same thing."

Ginny was too angry to even speak to Luna again that day, and it was in a very sour mood that she left her uneaten dinner in the Great Hall and returned to Gryffindor Tower to put away her bookbag before she reported to the dungeons for her final detention.

As she left the common room, however, Ginny's frustration was ebbing away into genuine worry. All she could think was that something was going to go horribly wrong. She didn't know what made her believe it, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Neville and Luna were in a great deal more trouble than they thought.

Shaking her head vigorously, Ginny continued along the corridor, trying to clear her mind of worry before she saw the Carrows, who would undoubtedly leap upon her mood as an opportunity to question her with great relish. She rounded a corner—and nearly walked straight into Mr. Filch. His vile cat, Mrs. Norris, glared up at Ginny with her glowing orange eyes.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Filch demanded.

"My detention," Ginny answered coldly.

He gave a wheezy, unpleasant laugh. "That right?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, get on, then," Filch said, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs. Ginny rolled her eyes and walked off down the corridor. "An' I'll have you in another detention if I catch you loitering here again!" Filch barked

"I'm not loitering!" she said angrily, spinning about to face him.

"Get on with you!" Filch barked, and Ginny turned on her heel, storming away.

She was so annoyed that it took her until she reached the fourth floor landing to realize why Filch had threatened her. Immediately, her face flushed with heat, and her heart began to pound. Filch had been guarding the Room of Requirement. He had been waiting to catch members of Dumbledore's Army coming or going from the room.

Ginny stood stock-still on the staircase. How did he know? Who else knew where the Room was, and who might be inside? Were Neville and the others there already, warned that someone was waiting outside for them, or were they in for a surprise?

Without another thought, she leapt down the rest of the stairs, racing down another four flights to the double doors of the Great Hall. She scanned the House tables, trying to find anybody from Dumbledore's Army, but there was no one in sight. Glancing down at her watch again, she saw she had only five minutes to get to her detention. _Where_ were Neville and the others?

She darted back out to the deserted entrance hall, hoping wildly that Neville would appear.

"Looking for someone, Weasley?" asked a drawling voice behind her. She turned. Draco Malfoy was staring coldly at her, his pale, pointed face drawn into a smirk. He had just come from the direction of the dungeons.

Perhaps it was the speed with which her mind was racing, but in that one moment, everything clunked into place.

"It was you," said Ginny quietly. "You found that picture. You gave it to the Carrows and told them who to look for…you told them about the Room of Requirement."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You and your friends need to learn to be a bit quieter. Although honestly, I probably could have smelled you just as easily. Clumsy little blood traitor can't do anything for herself without her boyfriend's picture in her pocket?"

"Where are they?" Ginny demanded.

"I'd guess they're about to get caught," Malfoy said, his lip curling. "I hope it turns out Longbottom's with them. Professor Carrow is just itching to—"

Ginny drew her wand, leveling it with his throat. "What—_exactly_—did you tell them, Malfoy?" He stared at her. "You don't scare me, Malfoy. Tell me what they know, now!"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed icily. "Enough, Weasley," he said. "They know enough." He drew a breath. "I expect Professor Carrow will have some new questions for you tonight, though. We've just had a little chat."

Ginny lowered her wand.

"Good choice," Malfoy sneered. "I'll see you around—if there's enough left of you." He walked away, leaving Ginny standing frozen for almost a full minute.

Then she looked at her watch again, and bolted toward the dungeons, flying down long flights of winding stairs and reaching the Carrows' detention room just barely on time.

Alecto certainly looked happier than Ginny had seen her in two weeks—Amycus looked equally pleased with himself.

"C'min, Weasley," said Alecto. "Shut the door."

Ginny obeyed.

"We've been hearin' that maybe…you haven't been tellin' us the truth, Weasley," Amycus said. "That's very distressin' news."

"Sorry to hear it," Ginny answered testily.

"Who've ye been protectin', eh?" Alecto demanded. "We know—we know there's more of ye, we got witnesses."

"Witnesses to what, may I ask? ARRGH!" Ginny collapsed onto the floor as Alecto's wand came slashing down like a knife. She raised a hand to her cheek—a deep wound was oozing blood. In two weeks of detention, the Carrows had yet to use a curse like Sectumsempra on Ginny, but it seemed that they were quite serious now, bearing down on her like wild animals circling a kill.

"Witnesses who know exactly who was in yer li'l club the last time," Amycus said. "So we know there's more of ye. And we got someone watching yer secret meetin' place, too."

"Give 'em up, Weasley," said Alecto, her voice dangerously soft. "Give 'em up, and we won't have to catch 'em one by one. We'll go easy on ye, too…"

"Let's be clear," Ginny said, getting to her feet. She touched her cheek gingerly, wiping her fingers on her robes. "You're going to give up on me to believe a slimy git like Malfoy, and, let's face it, you know his dad, so you know what he's like, when you two haven't been able to get a thing out of me…in two weeks?" She scoffed. "Well, I guess we know just how good the two of you are at what you're doing, if you really can't get solid information out of a teenage girl."

The Cruciatus Curse hit her so hard that all the air got knocked out of her lungs—she couldn't even scream as she hit the floor, writhing in pain. When it finally lifted again, she lay gasping for air, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Ye bin lyin' to us, Weasley," Alecto barked, spraying her with spit.

"If—you—say—so," Ginny panted.

"Ye've ordered somethin' to happen tonight, haven't ye?" Amycus shouted. "Ye thought we wouldn't notice if ye stopped talkin' to all yer friends, eh? Well, we ain't stupid—" Ginny gave a weak laugh as she pulled herself onto her hands and knees. "We found ye last time, and now we'll find yer friends," he hissed.

"No," Ginny told him, standing up shakily. "You were _led_ to me, last time…Malfoy _led_ you to me…"

"An' now he's led us to the rest of yer group," Alecto snapped. "He says he reckons Longbottom helped ye. That true?" Ginny said nothing, and Alecto seized her by the front of her robes, shaking her hard. "Lovegood? Finnigan?"

"Like I've been telling you, Professor," Ginny said, very calmly and solicitously. "I wrote on the wall. Just me. I can't imagine why Malfoy—if he's so well-informed, that is—would have any reason to believe that there was anyone else."

"_Crucio!_" Alecto shrieked, flinging her to the floor. "_Crucio! CRUCIO!_"

Ginny screamed, unable to control the jerking of her limbs. Her head roared with sound, and all of her blood vessels seemed ready to burst at once. There was a terrible pressure building inside of her, burning her with white-hot irons, and she was surely going to tear apart at any moment. The dungeon swam around her, the Carrows' faces morphing into Neville's and Luna's…then they became Parvati…Seamus…Professor McGonagall…Evelyn Alistair…

And then she lost consciousness entirely.


	10. Chapter 10

"She's waking."

Ginny's eyes opened slowly. She winced—the torchlight was too bright overhead. She lay in a warm and comfortable shell of blankets and pillows, tucked in so securely that she could not move, even if she had wanted to.

And she didn't want to. She had the nastiest suspicion that the aches lingering in the edges of her consciousness would come charging back to life if she even tried. As it was, her spine felt as though it had been twisted into a knot and pulled tight. She had almost certainly put her back out again; it throbbed painfully even as she lay still. Safe behind the cool darkness of her eyelids again, Ginny was aware of the sounds of a hushed conversation near her.

"What's the matter with her? Why won't she open her eyes?" asked Professor McGonagall in a low whisper.

"She's sensitive to the light," said Madam Pomfrey's voice. "Give her a moment."

Reluctantly, Ginny began to open her eyes again. She was, of course, in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey's white-aproned figure swam into focus near the side of her bed.

"Miss Weasley?" Madam Pomfrey asked, bending over her. "Miss Weasley, can you hear me? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

_They think I might have gone mad_, Ginny thought dully, though something in the back of her mind told her she should be horrified. _Like Neville's parents_. She nodded. "Yes."

"Do you know where you are?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Hogwarts," Ginny croaked. Her voice was dry, and she could feel her lips crack painfully. "Hospital wing."

"Good, dear, very good," said Madam Pomfrey.

"You're Madam Pomfrey," Ginny informed her, determined to prove that her mind was perfectly intact. She turned stiffly to the other figure standing at the end of her bed. "And that's Professor McGonagall."

Madam Pomfrey gave her a faint smile and looked up at McGonagall. "She's going to be just fine."

Professor McGonagall gripped the rail at the foot of Ginny's bed for a moment, closing her eyes and turning very white. Her lips were nothing but a thin line. Then her eyes snapped open.

"Miss Weasley, I shall be back to see you later," she said to Ginny. "I have to have a word with the headmaster." And she turned on her heel, storming from the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey was gently helping Ginny sit up slightly, arranging pillows beneath her shoulders. "It's very late, dear," she said. "You'll stay here tonight. Professor McGonagall has excused you from classes tomorrow, and I'll release you in time to get on the train home for your holiday."

"How did I get here?" Ginny asked. Her senses were returning, becoming a bit clearer, and she was suddenly filled with fear. She had just remembered Neville and Luna had done something with Dumbledore's Army tonight, and were probably being punished at this very moment. "Professor Carrow—"

"I was—informed—that you were in need of medical attention. I fetched you from the dungeon." Madam Pomfrey turned away from Ginny as she mixed a potion at her medicine cabinet.

"But—Carrow—" Ginny was choked by a spoonful of a steaming potion that seemed to immediately detach her from all of her pain. "Neville…and Luna," she insisted sleepily, catching Madam Pomfrey's wrist.

The last thing she remembered was Madam Pomfrey's quizzical expression as she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

The next time she woke, Ginny felt much, much better. It did not take so long for her to adjust to her surroundings, and her senses returned much faster. Even her headache was gone. She looked around. The ward appeared to be empty, and the gray, wintery light coming in through the windows indicated that it was late afternoon. She sat up, rubbing her face in her hands, and her fingers brushed the spot where the cut on her cheek had been healed. Not a mark remained.

"Ah, Miss Weasley." Madam Pomfrey had emerged from her office and was approaching Ginny's bed. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Ginny said, nodding. She pushed her hair back out of her eyes and stretched. "I feel a lot better."

Madam Pomfrey was scrutinizing her face. "Any pain? Can you stand?"

"I think so." Clumsy with sleep and feeling a little shaky, Ginny got to her feet and stretched out her arms luxuriously. Her lower back gave a tiny twinge of pain, but she was able to ignore it.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey said approvingly. "Very good."

"What time is it?" Ginny asked as she sat down on the bed again.

"Half-past four," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Classes are over?"

"Yes. Now, I'm going to get you a tray from the kitchen, and you'll stay here until—"

"Oh, Madam Pomfrey, can't I go down to dinner? It's important," Ginny insisted.

"No, Professor McGonagall asked that you remain up here," Madam Pomfrey answered incredulously. "I would have thought you would want to avoid…"

Ginny tried to keep her tone even. "I'm not worried about Professor Carrow, but I need to find…somebody."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "You'll stay up here and eat something." Then her expression softened. "But I shall discharge you after that. I will tell Professor McGonagall to expect you in her office instead of having her come here," she said.

"McGonagall's off—but _why_?" Ginny asked.

"She wishes to speak with you," Madam Pomfrey said simply, already walking away to her own office.

Ginny let out a sigh of irritation. Her fear for Luna and Neville was almost overwhelming, but there was no way she could even ask about them without giving herself away and getting all of them in trouble. She ate at top speed, allowed Madam Pomfrey to examine her once again, promised to return if she felt anything out of the ordinary, and changed into her robes.

When she dressed, she flew out of the hospital wing, trying to keep a level head and not imagine what could be happening to Neville and Luna—and Seamus, Parvati, Lavender, or anybody else—at this very moment.

Her mind racing, she knocked on Professor McGonagall's office door.

"Come in, Miss Weasley." Ginny opened the door. Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk, looking grave. "Sit down."

Ginny obeyed.

"How are you?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Fine, thank you," said Ginny warily.

McGonagall folded her hands atop her desk and leaned forward. "I see no reason to continue pretending that we don't each know precisely what the other is up to, Miss Weasley. You know that I've guessed your involvement in Dumbledore's Army, and that I know what…my colleagues…are carrying out in their detentions, correct?" Ginny hesitated for a moment, then nodded, and McGonagall sighed. "How many of you are there? Who else?"

"I can't tell you that, Professor," Ginny answered.

"Miss Weasley—"

"Professor, you saw what they did when they tried to make me tell them the same thing," she interrupted. "Or did I hallucinate last night?" Professor McGonagall's lips tightened into a thin line. "That's what I thought. And what do you think they'll do if they find out there really are more of us, and that you knew it the whole time? They'll hurt you, too."

Professor McGonagall sighed and opened her desk drawer. "Is this yours, Miss Weasley?" She produced a crumpled sheaf of parchment and smoothed it out on the desktop before Ginny, who leaned forward.

It was a newsletter from Dumbledore's Army, an old one. For a moment, Ginny could not fathom how, after nearly a month had passed since they had released it, the ink was clearly visible. Then, it dawned on her…it was written in orange ink, not the special Vanishing kind she had used originally. Luna had taken an old newsletter, copied it, and distributed this one as part of whatever Dumbledore's Army had hoped to accomplish last night.

"Where's—?" But Ginny caught herself and did not say Luna's name. Still, Professor McGonagall had caught her.

"There are very few people who could have this information about missing persons. It may interest you to know that I saw this exact list in a copy of the _Quibbler_, not three weeks ago," she said.

Ginny swallowed. She knew, of course she knew. No one had ever managed to lie convincingly to Professor McGonagall, not even Fred and George. "Where are Luna and Neville?" she burst out. "Are they all right? What did they do?"

McGonagall frowned, looking, for the first time, genuinely confused. "Both of them are perfectly well. As far as I know, this," she waved the parchment, "was distributed among the students sometime this morning. I found this one on the floor of my classroom."

Ginny felt her heart soar; Dumbledore's Army had not gotten caught doing anything. McGonagall had found the newsletter, yes, but what did that matter? She actually let out a sigh of relief.

"Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "Has something I have said amused you? You were in very real danger last night for something quite like this. I should think that the idea of your friends being exposed would impress upon you the seriousness of the situation. Now, you and Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood have _got_ to accept the gravity of the circumstances here," she said. "_This is not Hogwarts as you have known it._ I tried to get you to tell me the truth at the beginning of the year, and you told me that you were not re-opening Dumbledore's Army."

"Which was the truth," said Ginny, but McGonagall overrode her.

"_This_ tells me otherwise." She slapped her hand on the parchment before her. "You say you don't want my protection, I say you need it, and the best way I can offer it to you is to demand that you put an end to these activities, immediately, before one of you is even more seriously hurt than you were last night. You cannot fight this battle yourself."

"We did it before!" Ginny shouted, jumping to her feet. Professor McGonagall actually looked too stunned to speak. "Professor, when Umbridge had all of you tied up in those stupid decrees, just like the Carrows do now, we managed it! It was thanks to—to Harry and Hermione that Umbridge finally left! It was thanks to me, and Ron, and Neville, and Luna, and a hundred other people that she had such a miserable time here! We _all_ fought it, because you couldn't, and you _believed in us_. You even helped! We weren't afraid of her, Professor, and we're not afraid now. Maybe there are less of us now, but that just makes us want it more. Please." She dropped her voice. "You're in the Order, Professor. You have to understand."

Professor McGonagall looked as though she had lost her powers of speech. Perhaps it was the mention of Professor Umbridge, but there was something much colder in her expression now, and her remonstration had much less conviction in it this time. "You are my students," she said in a low voice. "I cannot allow—"

"And you're our teacher," Ginny agreed, cutting her off. "We learned from you."

Professor McGonagall stood up suddenly and went to the small window, facing away from Ginny. "Very well, Miss Weasley," she said, sounding as though she had something caught in her throat. "Please go back to your dormitory. We shall speak again after the holidays."

"Yes, Professor," said Ginny softly. She stood to leave, and out of the corner of her eye just before she shut the door, she distinctly saw Professor McGonagall pull a tartan handkerchief from her pocket.

* * *

"You're alive!"

"No need to sound so excited, Parvati," Ginny said in a muffled voice from beneath a many-armed hug comprised of Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, and Neville. "Ouch—okay, get off," she laughed as her back ached under their weight.

"Where have you been?" Lavender asked, stepping back with her hands over her mouth. "We've been panicked all day."

"Hospital wing," Ginny said dismissively, ignoring their exclamations of surprise. "And then McGonagall just had me in her office—listen, what happened to you all last night? Filch was outside—"

"The Room of Requirement, yeah, we know," Neville said, lowering his voice. He looked around the common room, which was packed with giggling, chattering students excited at the end of term. "Let's go up to our dormitory, we'll explain everything."

He and Seamus led the way up the boys' staircase to the seventh-year dormitory and shut the door.

"Wait," Ginny said, drawing her wand. "_Muffliato_." There was a soft _whoosh_, and she sat down on the nearest bed. The others were staring at her. "Harry taught it to me. Stops anyone from listening in," she shrugged.

"Cool," said Seamus appreciatively as Parvati and Lavender sat down on his bed.

"Okay, tell me what happened," Ginny insisted. "Luna and I—we talked during Herbology, and she said you all were still planning on doing something last night—"

"Argued, more like," Neville said, his expression darkening.

"She was right put out about it, too," Seamus said. "You'd better have a word with her," he told Ginny.

Guilt flooded her stomach.

"You'd better tell us where you've been first," Lavender corrected him. "How did _you_ know about Filch?"

Ginny sighed impatiently. "I saw him outside the Room of Requirement, but I didn't have time to warn you. When I got to detention, the Carrows—it was like they knew I'd been lying the whole time." She screwed up her eyes, straining to remember. Her memory of the previous evening was a little fuzzy. "They kept talking about Malfoy…wait, I ran into him! Yeah, that's it—I ran into him, he told the Carrows all about us, and he was the one who turned in that picture that got me in trouble. He—he knew you'd be with Dumbledore's Army," she told Neville.

To her surprise, Neville nodded grimly. "I was stupid," he said, shaking his head. "I was talking to these three after Muggle Studies."

"Malfoy heard him," said Parvati. "He was the one who caught Harry and turned him over to Umbridge, remember? Well, he heard enough of what Neville was saying to figure out what we were talking about, and it sounds like he told the Carrows."

"He knows it was me he heard going into the Room of Requirement, you mean?" Ginny asked Neville, who nodded again.

"And then I pretty much told him everything else he needed to get the rest of us," he said angrily. "I saw Filch standing outside the Room of Requirement yesterday after classes, and called off our plans to go and write on the walls in the Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor. Luna still went ahead and dropped a bunch of old flyers at breakfast—"

"McGonagall found one," Ginny said, remembering suddenly.

"McGonagall knows?" Seamus asked.

"She's guessed who's behind all of this," Ginny told them. "I mean, it's hardly surprising, but…"

Parvati leaned over, holding her head in her hands. "They're going to murder her."

"Don't say that!" Lavender cried.

"Okay, everyone _stop_," Neville barked, standing up. "We need to sort this out. McGonagall's guessed we're back, you say?"

"And she knows Luna's dad is sending us news because she's somehow gotten hold of a _Quibbler_, so she knows that Luna's involved as well," Ginny supplied quickly. "She probably guessed at the rest of us, but she's definitely keeping it to herself. You should've seen her face…"

Neville scratched his neck, thinking hard. "Malfoy has figured out that the two of us—Ginny and I—were in the Room of Requirement, and he must have guessed that the rest of you are in, too."

"Which means the Carrows know that, and so does Snape," Seamus finished.

"Snape's not stupid like them, though," Ginny said, staring off into space as she thought. "He knew from the first day he dragged me in his office that Dumbledore's Army was back. He's scared of us."

There was a moment's silence.

"And why were you in the hospital wing?" Parvati asked softly. "Luna said at dinner you missed all of your classes today."

"Carrows," Ginny said tersely, unconsciously putting a hand on her stiff back. She did not look at Neville; how could she say to him that she had been tortured so viciously that Madam Pomfrey had feared for her sanity? The very thought nauseated her, but to say it out loud…she repressed a shudder, ignoring Neville's curious gaze on her.

"I don't think I've ever wanted to go home so badly before," Lavender said faintly.

"Look," said Neville suddenly. "We're going to be in more danger next term now that Snape has proof from Malfoy that we're here, that's true—so if anyone thinks that—that now's the time to end it…we're listening." He stared around at Ginny and the others for almost a full minute.

"Don't be a prat, Neville," said Seamus, flinging a Gryffindor Quidditch rosette at his head.

Ginny couldn't help but burst into laughter with everyone else. She collapsed backward, breathless with giggling, onto the bed, and once they had started, it was very difficult to stop. But at last, when their laughing had subsided to tiny, breathless giggles and hiccups, Neville recovered himself enough to sit up and look at Ginny.

"You—you've only got a half hour until curfew," he said. "You should talk to Luna."

Ginny blinked, sighing sadly. It was true, of course. She had to apologize properly for her mistreatment of Luna. "Can I use your coin?" Neville tossed it to her, and she pulled out her wand again, tapping the edge. The letters shifted around and morphed until they read: LL MEET GW.

Seamus pulled out his own coin, examining it. "There she goes," he said, as the one in Ginny's hand heated up. It now read: LIBRARY.

Ginny made it to the library with nearly twenty minutes left before curfew began. Eager as she was to avoid getting in further trouble with the Carrows, she cared more deeply about getting Luna to forgive her.

She found Luna sitting in a windowed study corner, gazing out at the dark, starry sky that hovered over the snow-covered grounds.

"Hey."

Luna looked around. Her eyes were still ringed by dark circles. "Hi," she said. "Oh, you're all right." Ginny smiled, accepting Luna's hug and sitting down beside her. "Did the Carrows put you in the hospital wing?"

"I'm fine," Ginny told her. "Neville and the others told me about last night. You didn't have to drop those newsletters again, you know."

Luna raised and lowered one shoulder, turning her protuberant eyes out the window again. "I know."

For a long while, neither of them said anything, but gazed out at the stars. Finally, Ginny turned to her. "I owe you an apology. I was nasty to you, and you didn't deserve it." Luna simply stared at her, and Ginny looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "It's just that Neville's our new leader, because he's really got…I don't know…power, I guess, even if he doesn't know it. And you—you're _so_ smart, Luna, I think of you as second in command, and I just thought you weren't doing a good job of thinking everything through. You've got all these strategies and ideas going in your mind, and you _always_ believe they're going to work, and they do—and—and…sometimes…I forget that," she finished lamely. "I think I just talked myself in a circle."

Luna smiled slightly, though her eyes remained a bit sad. "Apology accepted, Ginny," she said. "I think very highly of you, too."

Ginny grinned. "Will you and your dad come over for Christmas?" she asked. "I'll ask Mum, I'm sure it's fine."

"I…I suppose I could ask," Luna said, though something in her expression clouded over again.

"Luna," Ginny said slowly, "Are you all right?" Something horrible occurred to her. "Is your dad okay?" Luna seemed startled, and she knew she had hit the point exactly. "Luna, what's wrong? Tell me now."

"I don't know," she said honestly. "It's not as though I haven't heard from him…he sent me a letter just yesterday…but ever since he stopped sending me news, I've had a bad feeling." To Ginny's shock, her chin was trembling, and her eyes were filling slowly with tears. "I'm afraid that…that maybe…he's in trouble. What if someone tries to hurt him? The _Quibbler_ must be in trouble by now because of what Dad's been writing about Harry, and I've gotten in trouble here, with the Carrows…what if he's being watched, or tortured, or—or they try to kill him?" she whispered. "I couldn't let him be in danger for my sake. He doesn't deserve it."

"Oh, Luna," Ginny said softly, pulling Luna into a tight hug. "No, Luna, no…I'm sure he's fine. He—he must just be busy. There may be nothing to report. You never know," she said, holding Luna's arms bracingly. "Watch, I bet—I bet he'll pick you up tomorrow at King's Cross. He'll be right there waiting for you." Luna closed her eyes and nodded.

"And if he's held up with—with whatever's got him so busy," Ginny said, touching her chin, "You can come and spend the night with me, and then we'll go together to your house. All right?"

Luna smiled a bit. "Thank you, Ginny."

"The library is closed," said a cold voice behind them. Madam Pince, glowering, stood near the bookshelf, a stack of books in her arms.

"I'll see you on the train," Ginny said, and Luna nodded. They quickly left the library under Madam Pince's suspicious glare.

* * *

"We should start off by practicing Disillusionment again," Luna said, popping a moss-flavored Bertie Bott's Bean into her mouth.

Ginny nodded, stroking Arnold, who lay on her stomach, purring. "I want to get better at that," she said. "It doesn't feel right, yet. You're probably lucky your hair's not still invisible or something, Luna."

Luna smiled, and Neville made a note. "Patronuses after that, and then I think we can stop the review, don't you think?" he asked.

"We could teach that wide-range Shield Charm," Luna said. Neville nodded and scribbled it down.

"Does anyone else feel about a thousand times better than they did on the grounds?" Seamus asked, staring out of the window.

"It's the dementors," Ginny said. "They're not feeding on you anymore."

"Cheerful, Ginny, thanks for that," he said, and she shrugged.

"I believe it." Parvati shuddered. "Those things are awful."

"The dementors have been put in place for your protection," said Ginny in her best imitation of Snape's drawling voice. Everyone laughed. The compartment door slid open again, and Lavender came in.

"Only half an hour," she said. "Driver says we've been going slowly because of the fog."

Ginny looked out the window. Thick clouds of mist pressed up against the dark windows of the train, but she could just barely see the lights of London in the distance.

"Gran's going to be annoyed," said Neville. "She hates going out through London in nice weather."

"Heads up," Seamus muttered. Everyone turned simultaneously to see Draco Malfoy walking past their compartment, glaring suspiciously at them.

"Since when does he go anywhere without those two idiots?" Parvati asked contemptuously.

Ginny shook her head. "He's just mad the Carrows obviously didn't catch you doing anything," she said. "Come on, Arnold," she cooed, standing and deliberately turning her back on Malfoy to put Arnold in his cage.

Half an hour later, she was standing on Platform 9¾ with Arnold's cage under one arm and her trunk standing on its end before her. The platform was rapidly emptying as people collected luggage and found their parents, and she was among the last few to still be waiting.

"Tell Ron I hope he's feeling better," Parvati told her with a quick hug. Ginny nodded, and Parvati ran off to join her sister and parents.

"Bye, all!" Seamus called, waving from where he stood with his mother. She waved back, and then turned to Neville and Luna, who was looking a bit nervous as she looked around the platform, which was now largely empty but for the queue of people crossing through the barrier to King's Cross. They stood alone, near the train.

"Luna Lovegood?"

Ginny stiffened and turned around slowly. An enormous man in black robes with a great deal of curly, dark hair and a scowl stood just behind them. He could not have looked more out of place on a station platform full of happily reunited families if he were carrying a bloodied axe. Another wizard in black robes, not as bulky but equally as menacing, stood just behind him.

"Can I help you?" Luna asked politely.

"You've gotta come with us," said the huge wizard.

"And who are you?" Ginny demanded, stepping in front of Luna slightly.

"Ah, we're old friends of her dad's," said the other wizard, with an unpleasant sneer.

Ginny felt Luna's hand close tightly on her arm. "Well, I'm afraid she can't come with you," she said, adjusting herself to stand directly in front of Luna. Neville stepped next to her.

"Is my father all right?" Luna asked.

Ginny groaned inwardly, as the two wizards laughed. She looked around, but the platform was almost entirely empty, but for the few families who were much too far away to notice what was going on. Where were her parents? Where was Neville's grandmother?

"You'd better clear off," Neville said loudly, drawing his wand.

"I don't think you want to do that," said the first wizard. He pulled out his own wand. "She's coming with us, by any means necessary. That's what we were told…if that means we have to take care of you, too, then…" He stepped forward, reaching for Ginny, who ducked away and drew her own wand. She and Neville were backing up, forcing Luna behind them.

"_Crucio!_"

"PROTEGO!" Neville bellowed. He was thrown off-balance by the force of the wizard's curse, but he managed to stay on his feet. "RUN, LUNA, RUN!"

Ginny seized Luna and took off running, yanking her behind a pillar just as a jet of orange light sailed past her. They crouched facing each other. "Double Impediment Jinxes?" Ginny asked. Luna drew her wand and nodded. "GO!"

"_Impedimenta_!" they screamed together, and they heard two satisfying yells of pain on the other side of the pillar.

"Ginny, take Luna and go!" Neville yelled. "I'll Apparate, but you need to get lost!"

Ginny didn't need telling twice—the Impediment Jinxes were wearing off, she could hear the two wizards swearing. "Come on, Luna—the next pillar, ready? Three—two—_Arnold!_"

She had left the Pygmy Puff in his cage, lying on the platform, and he was squeaking in terror. Something brushed past her—Luna had darted towards the cage, which lay at the feet of their attackers.

"Luna, no!" Ginny screamed. "_Impedimenta! Stupefy!_"

Luna snatched the cage just as Ginny's spells collided with one of Neville's and exploded in the huge wizard's face. He yelled in pain and leapt back—

"Stop!"

There was a volley of bangs that shook the earth, and Ginny was knocked off her feet. She smacked her head hard on the floor, and little stars danced before her eyes. Her back throbbed and her head whirled, but she forced herself to sit up—the enormous wizard was lying unconscious on the ground a few feet away from her, steadily turning a bright shade of orange. His cohort was somehow still on his feet with his arms clasped tightly around Luna, who had dropped her wand and Arnold's cage.

"Gran," Neville gasped.

Ginny looked around. Sure enough, Neville's grandmother had just appeared from nowhere in the middle of the platform. She had her wand out and trained on the wizard holding Luna, and every line in her face was etched with fury.

"Who are you?" she barked, ignoring Neville. She took another step towards the wizard. "Let that girl go!" Her eyes flickered down to the huge, bright orange wizard, who was starting to sit up. "Albert Runcorn…I might've guessed there were some Ministry brutes behind this," she spat. "Neville—take Ginny and collect your things. _Now_."

Neville ran over to help Ginny to her feet. The wizard called Runcorn had gotten to his feet—he seemed disorientated, but he drew his wand and aimed it at Mrs. Longbottom.

"Release the girl," she ordered. "You have three seconds, and then it will come to wands."

"Mrs. Longbottom."

Ginny stopped trying to heave Neville's trunk off of its side and turned to stare in horror at Luna. She was very calmly standing in her captor's arms, not struggling in the slightest.

"It's all right," she said softly. Her eyes were misty and had a far-off look.

"Luna, no!" Ginny cried—she knew what Luna was doing, and she could not allow it. "You can't!"

"They want me," Luna said, and an expression of relief filled her face. Neville and Ginny were staring at her, transfixed with horror. "They want me, not Dad. It's…it's all right, Ginny."

"Let her go!" Mrs. Longbottom shouted.

"You heard the little lady," said the wizard holding Luna. He and Runcorn were backing away from Mrs. Longbottom. "Say goodbye, princess."

"NO!" Ginny screamed, trying to run forward. Neville caught her arm and held her back.

Luna shut her eyes, and with a pop, she and the two wizards disappeared. Ginny burst into tears and broke away from Neville, sobbing hysterically. Her foot landed on something round and slipped from beneath her—she hit the ground hard and tasted blood.

"Ginny," Neville said in a broken voice, putting his hands on her arms and pulling her up. "Ginny, she's gone…"

"Luna," Ginny sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck. "No, no…"

"Neville, quickly." Mrs. Longbottom was looking all around, as though she expected them to be ambushed at any moment. "Get your trunks—Ginny, you'll come home with us until I can reach your parents."

Ginny didn't protest. She was shaking and trying to stop her tears as Neville got her to her feet and handed her Arnold's cage. The Pygmy Puff was shaking and squeaking amid the wreckage that had been his home. "Shh, shh," she said softly, reaching through the bars to stroke him.

"Neville, take your trunks," said Mrs. Longbottom. "Ginny will come with me."

Neville nodded once, sniffing and wiping his cheeks quickly. He hurried over to the luggage, but stopped and bent suddenly, picking up something.

"What is it?" Ginny asked tearfully.

He turned, holding out the thing that she had slipped on. It was Luna's wand, and it had snapped beneath Ginny's shoe. Ginny took the pieces, holding them tightly.

"Hold my arm, and keep that cage close," Mrs. Longbottom warned, pulling Ginny against her. "Ready? One, two—three."

The tears had not quite dried on Ginny's cheeks as she was yanked bodily into crushing darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

The Longbottoms' house was not unlike number twelve, Grimmauld Place, if it had been better cared for and not so covered in Dark objects and paintings with bad attitudes. It was large and bright, three stories high, and lay nestled in a quiet corner of London near a snow-covered park. After Mrs. Longbottom healed her bloody lip, Ginny was given a guest room on the third floor, a wide and comfortable attic space. Neville and his grandmother had their bedrooms on the second floor, and the first floor was devoted to the sitting room, parlor, kitchen, and dining room.

Ginny stayed up in the room for quite a while, calming herself down, although Mrs. Longbottom's homemade tea helped a great deal to calm her nerves. She had spent the last half hour packing Luna's belongings (including the D.A. Galleon she had been dismayed to find tucked in a pair of socks) in her own trunk, determined to keep them safe, and though her trunk was uncomfortably crowded, she had managed to squeeze it all in.

Finally, Ginny reached into her pocket and produced the broken pieces of Luna's wand. Fighting back more tears, she put them safely atop her folded robes inside her trunk, and shut the lid. Then, unable to face the sight of Luna's empty trunk propped uselessly against the wall, she went to the window, where she could gaze out at the city.

There was a dense ceiling of fog that did not quite reach the tops of the buildings, making all of the snowy rooftops dotted with golden lights look at though they were buried in huge drifts of snow. She sighed, thinking longingly of the Burrow, and another wave of fear flooded her at the thought that her parents hadn't come to collect her from King's Cross. She pushed it from her mind; Mrs. Longbottom was downstairs right now trying to contact her family, and she had no reason to be worried—yet.

When Ginny had gotten Arnold to calm down enough that she could leave him in his cage, she went downstairs to find Neville in his bedroom, talking to his _Mimbulus mimbletonia_, which was now so large that it took up a corner of his bedroom entirely on its own.

He had not noticed her watching him, and she was about to speak when she heard a familiar voice downstairs. Her heart leapt, and she darted down the remaining flight of stairs.

"Thanks so much, Augusta, we—_Ginny!_"

Ginny came into Mrs. Longbottom's sitting room, where her father's head sat in the flickering flames that danced in the fireplace. She gave him a faint smile. "Hi, Dad," she said. "Where are you?"

"We're home, we're all safe here," he assured her.

"They couldn't make it to King's Cross," said Mrs. Longbottom significantly. Ginny could tell that the Floo call was probably being monitored, and so said nothing else.

"Are you all right?" Dad asked, smiling tiredly. "We can't wait to have you home."

"I'm fine, Dad," she promised.

"I'll come to pick you up on Monday, all right?"

"Monday?" Ginny repeated. "But—but—"

Her father widened his eyes and shook his head slightly. "You're to have a nice weekend visiting with Neville and his grandmother, Ginny, understand?"

Ginny deflated. "All right," she agreed morosely.

"Your mother sends her love. She's busy right now, or she'd come and talk," said Dad. Ginny blinked hard and nodded. "Thanks again, Augusta."

"Not at all, not at all," said Mrs. Longbottom, waving a hand. "Good evening, Arthur."

Ginny sank down in a chair behind Mrs. Longbottom's as, with a small _pop_, her father disappeared from the fireplace.

"Where is Neville?" Mrs. Longbottom asked.

"Upstairs, checking on his _Mimbulus mimbletonia_," said Ginny quietly.

Mrs. Longbottom chuckled. "I hope I've been taking care of it to his satisfaction. He left me detailed instructions when he realized that he would never be able to carry it back to school with him on the train…of course, I've always had a talent for Herbology, as well…" She picked up a cup of tea from the table beside her and leaned around her chair to look at Ginny. "Come here, my girl," she said austerely, pointing to the chair opposite hers.

Ginny obeyed, though she did not look up at Mrs. Longbottom, who narrowed her eyes and stared at Ginny over the rim of her teacup. "Neville has spoken very highly of you for several years now, you know, and though I met you myself not long ago…tonight I saw why. You behaved admirably."

Ginny stared at the carpet. "It didn't do much good," she said.

"I think your parents might disagree with that," Mrs. Longbottom scoffed. "You saved your own life, and you tried very hard to save your friend's. It was very brave of you."

Ginny nodded, staring into the fire.

Mrs. Longbottom was still watching her closely. "They won't harm the Lovegood girl."

"How can you say that?" Ginny asked. "You can't know—"

"No, I can't," Mrs. Longbottom agreed. "But if Xenophilius Lovegood is in trouble for what his magazine has been writing, they know their best leverage to get him to behave is his daughter, alive but imprisoned. Shockingly, Death Eaters and the people they place under the Imperius Curse are rarely stupid."

Ginny buried her face in her hands. She had just lived through the longest three days of her life. Everything felt surreal, as though she were dreaming. Mrs. Longbottom seemed to wish to divert her attention.

"How is your…what was it? The purple creature. In the cage, I mean."

"Pygmy Puff," Ginny mumbled. She raised her head. "It's a miniature puffskein. My brothers breed them in their joke shop."

Mrs. Longbottom raised her eyebrows. "I've heard of the shop," she said. "Neville and I visited it recently. Your brothers are very gifted wizards. Which ones own the store?" Now that she had gotten Ginny talking, she seemed eager to keep the conversation off of Luna.

Ginny cleared her throat. "It's Fred and George. They're twins."

"And you have another brother, who's ill, I believe?" she asked. "I've met him. Ron, isn't it? How is he?"

Ginny squirmed a bit at the lie, but shrugged. "I haven't any idea. I haven't been able to write much to my family," she said. "I'm sure you've noticed Neville hasn't written much, either."

Mrs. Longbottom nodded. "So, you are the only girl in a family of—four children?"

"Seven," said Ginny. "All Gryffindors."

Mrs. Longbottom smiled slightly. "I had four older brothers. All Gryffindors, too. All brave like you, and Neville, and my son."

There was a long stretch of silence. Finally, Ginny looked up. "Um…thank you, Mrs. Longbottom. Really, thank you so much for having me. And…thanks for trying to save Luna, too." The words stuck in her throat.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help more," said Mrs. Longbottom. "Has Neville shown you your room?"

Ginny nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm a bit tired."

"Run along to bed," Mrs. Longbottom told her. "I will be purchasing our Christmas tree tomorrow, if you wish to help decorate it. The two of you ought to have as nice a start to your holiday as you can. I can't imagine how hard they've been working you this year, but you both look ready to collapse from strain."

"I think we're probably just tired from tonight," Ginny lied automatically. "I—I think I'll go up. Good night, Mrs. Longbottom." She stood and hurried to the stairs.

"Good night, dear."

Ginny stopped in the doorway and faced Mrs. Longbottom, who was frowning into the fire. "Mrs. Longbottom…how many of your brothers do you still have?"

She raised her eyes shrewdly to stare at Ginny, her expression knowing and sharp. "One."

* * *

"D'you think her dad knows yet?" Ginny asked in a low voice. "I mean, where was he if he wasn't on the platform? And why weren't my parents there, why were they at home?"

"He definitely knows," Neville assured her, attaching a hook to the ornament he held. "I'll bet you they held him up somehow, so they could get to the platform first."

"I had a nightmare about what—what happened," Ginny admitted. "What are they going to do to her?"

"Luna's brave, Ginny," he said. "The worst they can possibly do is drag her off to Azkaban, if they expect to get her dad to do anything they want."

"You say that like it's a good thing," she moaned.

"Well, it's not like she's being tortured for information!" He lowered his gaze when Ginny glared at him. "I just mean that she's not as bad off as she could be, and it's not like sitting here worrying about it is going to help."

"What is wrong with you?" Ginny demanded. "How can you—?"

"You know Luna would say the exact same thing," Neville interrupted. "She would say that the most important thing is to believe she's all right, and keep going on. We can't fall to pieces."

Ginny closed her eyes as Neville took the ornament out of her hands. He was absolutely right, but she could not erase from her mind the image of Luna's calm, peaceful expression just a half-second before she was taken. She felt badly shaken to her core. There was a sudden sound at the door to the kitchen, and they both looked up.

"I've laid out dinner," said Mrs. Longbottom, appearing in the doorway. She cast an appraising eye over the Christmas tree. Ginny had gotten up hurriedly and busied herself with hanging up the last ornament. "That looks wonderful. Exceptional work, both of you. Now come and wash your hands."

It was late on Monday evening, and Mrs. Longbottom had done a successful job of keeping Neville and Ginny occupied for the last two days. She insisted that they come with her to buy and decorate the Christmas tree, cook dinner, and do their laundry. Ginny had just finished repacking her trunk more neatly with Luna's belongings before she was summoned down to the parlor with Neville to put the finishing touches on the tree.

It was another hour before they finished dinner, by which time Ginny was unable to keep her eyes from flickering every few seconds to the windows in the sitting room, through which she could just see the path that led to the front door.

"Are you all right?" Mrs. Longbottom asked her.

"Dad doesn't usually stay this late at work," she said tensely. Then she turned back to her plate. "Sorry." There was a knock at the door, and Ginny launched out of her seat.

"Wait, _wait!_" Mrs. Longbottom cried, heading her off. She got through the sitting room to the front door first, holding her wand. Neville and Ginny stood in the kitchen doorway. "Declare yourself," Mrs. Longbottom said loudly.

"I'm Arthur Weasley, here to collect my daughter, Ginevra Molly Weasley. When she was four years old, she broke her leg falling from an apple tree in our orchard, which she refused to let her mother fix until she was given a Chocolate Frog."

Mrs. Longbottom looked to Ginny, who nodded and laughed, knowing that that had been her father's intention. She opened the door and Ginny ran forward, throwing herself into her father's arms.

He looked the same as ever, his patched traveling cloak sliding off one shoulder and a thick, homemade sweater underneath. He was, perhaps, a bit thin, showing the strain he was under, and his expression was worried as he peered nervously into Ginny's face. "You're all right? You're not hurt?"

"I'm okay," Ginny insisted, hugging him closer.

"Your mother's been beside herself," Dad told her, kissing her hair. His voice was constricted with emotion, and she could not remember the last time he had held her so tightly.

"Then you'd better get going," Mrs. Longbottom said gently. "Neville, why don't you fetch Ginny's trunk for her?"

Ginny pulled away from her father. "I'll be right back," she promised. He smoothed her hair and nodded. She followed Neville out of the room, upstairs to her bedroom.

"Okay, listen," Neville said, lifting Ginny's trunk onto its end. "We've got to decide what to tell everyone else."

"Well…they need the truth, of course," she said slowly, as the image of Luna's closed eyes moments before she disappeared flashed through her mind once again. "But I don't think we should write to them, in case any mail gets intercepted. We'll have to wait until term starts to tell them."

"I meant about Dumbledore's Army," Neville said. "Are we still going on?"

Ginny paused, looking away from him, and Luna's last words echoed in her head. Would going on mean more disappearances, more kidnappings like Luna's? Neville was watching her nervously.

"You're the leader, Neville," she said slowly. "Don't be a prat." He snorted, and she smiled reluctantly.

"Right, got it," said Neville. He embraced her tightly. "Be safe, okay? Use the coin if you need to talk." She nodded, wondering horribly if this was the last time she was going to see Neville.

"Ginny?"

"Coming, Dad," she called down the stairs, picking up Arnold's cage as the feeling of foreboding dissipated. Neville followed her, carrying her trunk. Mrs. Longbottom and Ginny's father had not moved from the sitting room. "Ready," she said. "How are we going?"

"You'll Apparate with me," Dad said, taking Arnold's cage and setting it on top of Ginny's trunk. He waved his wand once and they vanished with a small _pop_. "Augusta, thank you again."

"Not at all," said Mrs. Longbottom. "Have a nice holiday, Ginny."

"Thank you, Mrs. Longbottom," she answered. "Bye, Neville."

He waved as Ginny and her father walked down the front steps of the house. Dad looked both ways down the deserted street.

"Dad, why—?"

"No questions here, Ginny," he said, shaking his head. "Take my arm."

Ginny braced herself as she was pulled into the tight vacuum and emerged seconds later, staggering, on the snow-covered road just in front of the Burrow. She gave a sigh of relief; she was home.

"Come on, sweetheart, quickly," her father said, hurrying her through the garden gate. He raised his wand, casting shimmering lights over the boundaries again as Ginny stood rooted to the spot, shivering.

"Ginny? _Ginny!_ Oh, Arthur!"

She spun around; her mother had appeared in the golden light that poured from the open kitchen door, and was running to meet them.

"She's all right, Molly," said Dad, as Ginny was pulled into a suffocating hug. "She's fine—please, let's go inside."

Mum refused to let Ginny go, pulling her into the warmth and light of the kitchen. While Dad sealed the door, Mum looked her over. Mum was showing her tension even more than Dad—her dressing gown was far too loose, and she looked exhausted, as though she hadn't slept in days.

"Oh, my poor girl," she gasped at last, wrapping Ginny tightly in her arms again. Ginny didn't try to break away; it felt far too good to be back with her mother again. She actually had to swallow a lump in her throat. Before she knew what was happening, she had been deposited in a chair at the kitchen table, her parents sitting on either side of her.

"What happened?" her mother asked. "Augusta said there was trouble at the platform—"

"Death Eaters—or, I think Ministry people, I don't know," Ginny said quickly. "They took Luna, because of what her dad's been writing in the _Quibbler_. Neville and I tried to stop it, and so did Neville's grandmother—but _wait_," she said, holding her hands up. "Where were you? I thought you were coming to get me." She was trying hard not to sound accusatory.

Her mother started to speak, but Dad cut her off and said very frankly, "There was someone watching the house, Ginny, and we didn't want to lead them to you." He looked up at Mum. "And it sounds like we were right in that, Molly. They seem to have known who Luna's friends would be. Augusta said her wards weren't broken, but she saw someone outside her house late last night, just watching the door." He sighed and looked at Ginny. "Ever since the wedding, when they came from the Ministry…well, they've sent someone round to check on us about once a month."

Ginny's stomach twisted unpleasantly.

"All right, that's enough," Mum said gently, with a pointed look at Dad. "Our girl's home, that's all that matters."

"Right," said Dad, smoothing Ginny's hair.

"Where's Charlie?" she asked, looking around.

"He's staying with the twins in Diagon Alley," Mum told her. "They'll all be home for Christmas." Then, as though she couldn't restrain herself, she threw her arms around Ginny and yanked her into another stifling hug. "I'm so glad you're safe, sweetheart."

Ginny blinked hard, patting her back. "I'm okay, Mum," she said. "Really, I'm fine…"

"But you might not have been," Mum said, holding her still tighter. Then she seemed to remember something, and released Ginny. "You've got a lot to tell us," she said sternly. Dad nodded.

"What was that letter we got?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "Vandalism, Ginny?"

"Erm," Ginny mumbled, "Well, about that…it really…er…"

Her mother narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Ginevra."

"Look, I already served my punishment for it, isn't that enough?" Ginny snapped suddenly, leaping to her feet to her own surprise as much as her parents'. "If you'd rather believe _Snape_ that I'm singlehandedly tearing down the castle walls, then fine, but I don't want to talk about this five seconds after I walk in the door!"

"Ginny!"

She ignored her mother and stormed through the living room, up the stairs, and straight to her bedroom, where her trunk sat under the window. Arnold lay in his cage on top of the trunk, snoozing. Ginny flicked her wand and the lights went out. She immediately regretted this when she realized she could barely see enough to get over to her trunk and fetch her pajamas.

Instead, she just kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed, seething. Her warm feelings of happiness that she was finally home had dissipated, and she was left with a great feeling of injustice.

She felt bad for shouting at her parents, but it seemed as though a great wall had erupted in the middle of her life—a wall that separated her life at Hogwarts and her life at home. How could she look her parents in the eye, knowing how strained and exhausted with worry they were, and tell them the truth of what was happening to her and her friends? How could she burden them more by talking about the Carrows and their insane methods of punishment?

How could she tell her mother that she had been tortured?

Not for the first time, Ginny felt a rush of hatred for Snape. This was his doing; he had written to her parents, gotten them anxious in the first place. He would get what he deserved, she thought. When this was all over, and Harry finally came back, Snape would be the first to get what he deserved.

But thinking of Harry gave her another swell of painful emotion. Saying goodbye to Neville, after losing Luna, had been the painful beyond the norm. She didn't know whether she would ever see Luna again; it seemed even less likely than Harry, Ron, or Hermione coming back. How many of her friends had she casually said goodbye to in the last few days that could very well vanish before returning to Hogwarts?

Paralyzing dread filled her stomach, creeping up the back of her throat and filling her brain with a million different horror scenarios. Where were her brothers right now? What if someone broke into the house at this moment, and she had left her parents downstairs? Had Hermione been captured and thrown in Azkaban, like so many other Muggleborns?

She could not move, could not breathe, could not think. There was nothing she could do. What was the point of ever fighting back when a million other horrible things threatened to overtake you at every turn?

_SHUT UP!_

The voice in Ginny's head (which sounded remarkably like Ron, as a matter of fact) had apparently had enough, for her mind went suddenly blank, and she felt herself relaxing again.

She let out a long breath, and winced. Her back was still painful from her ordeal just a few nights ago. It could have been years since her last detention, when she had felt so happy and looked forward to going home. She turned over onto her back again, gazing up at the ceiling.

There was a soft knock on her door, and Ginny rolled over, pretending not to hear it. The door opened and a weight settled beside her on the bed. Her mother's hands gently stroked her hair for a moment, and she heard a heavy sigh. Then the weight disappeared, and Ginny felt a blanket being draped over her.

There were a few soft footsteps, the sound of the door shutting again, and then silence.


	12. Chapter 12

A shout of laughter was the first thing that woke Ginny the next morning. She blinked, bleary-eyed, and looked around her bedroom. Snow was falling outside her window, and Arnold was rolling around impatiently in his cage and squeaking, undoubtedly waiting for her to get up. She picked up her watch from the bedside table; it was nearly eleven in the morning.

She sat up and rubbed her back. Then she heard the voices in the kitchen below again, hopped out of bed, and dressed quickly before giving Arnold his breakfast. She pulled out her violet Christmas sweater and tugged it on, then settled him on her shoulder and hurried downstairs.

Ginny stopped in the sitting room when she realized that the voices did not belong to her brothers at all. She crept a bit closer to the doorway, listening.

"—Wouldn't tell us a thing," her mother was saying. "We both think that it has to do with that defense group that they all started. What if she's decided to carry it on?"

"Well, I have a hard time believing that Ginny would _really_ vandalize anything, even if she did get in trouble for it," said another voice. Ginny smiled involuntarily as Lupin went on, "Snape could very easily have caught her doing something else. He's manipulative and intelligent, Molly, he knows that the way to get Ginny to behave is to get you and Arthur involved."

"You make it sound as though she _ought_ to be causing trouble!" Mum said in a shocked voice. "You haven't seen her, Remus, she looks ill! I almost thought she was going to faint right in my arms last night, she was so pale."

"I only think that Ginny is perfectly able to assess a situation and act accordingly," said Lupin calmly. "It's a trait she's picked up not only from her friends, but from her parents. And as for her appearance, her friend was kidnapped right in front of her. She's been through a great deal in the last few days." There were a few beats of silence. "Molly, if you're sure that something is seriously wrong and want to know what's happened to her, why don't you ask?"

There was a snort of laughter, and Ginny stifled a gasp.

"Remus, I hope we have a daughter so you can learn exactly how sixteen-year-old girls act when their parents try to question them," Tonks chuckled. "Advanced Interrogation Systems performed by highly-trained Aurors wouldn't get a thing out of Ginny. Ouch—"

"Drink your tea," Mum said. She sounded as though she had gotten up and walked away from the table. "It helps, really."

"You sound like _my_ mother," Tonks teased.

"You should eat something," Lupin told her in a low voice. Ginny frowned, confused by his solicitous tone. "You don't look well."

"I'm fine," Tonks insisted.

Mum's voice sounded from the far side of the kitchen, near the scullery. "Remus, have you got that wolfsbane? It's ready…"

It was Tonks who answered. "I've got it, I'm coming, Molly." There was the scrape of a chair and the sound of Tonks' departure.

It seemed that they were done discussing her, so Ginny straightened up and walked into the kitchen. Lupin sat at the far end of the table, perusing a newspaper with a breakfast plate in front of him. Two more places sat around him, each with just a cup of tea.

He looked up when Ginny walked in. "Well, good morning," he said cheerfully. He was grayer and thinner than ever, and his robes were practically worn through in places, but he was smiling as he got up and hugged her.

"Morning," she said, smiling. "When did you get here?"

"Tonks and I are coming for Christmas, and so is her mother," Lupin explained. "Your m—well, we wanted to settle in a bit early."

Ginny frowned, but at that moment, Mum walked in, carrying a mug of something that was steaming and giving off a terrible smell.

"Oh, thank you, Molly," Lupin said, taking it from her. He took a large swig, grimaced, and looked at Ginny. "Wolfsbane Potion," he explained. "It's the full moon. I'm afraid I won't be staying here tonight. Er—Molly, where's—?"

"The smell didn't agree with Tonks's stomach," Mum said lightly, kissing Ginny's cheek and steering her into a chair.

A shadow of something—sadness?—fluttered across Lupin's face for a moment. Then he sat down, pushing the newspaper towards Ginny.

"I don't expect you've seen many of those recently?" he asked, taking a sip of his potion.

Ginny grinned. "How did you know?"

"Professor McGonagall," Lupin said. "I've been bringing her news, when I can."

"You've been around Hogwarts?" Ginny asked. "I—I didn't know that."

"Well, I could hardly contact you," he told her, and she nodded. "McGonagall says Snape has you all under lock and key. I could feel the dementors at the edge of Hogsmeade."

Ginny shrugged as her mother placed a heaping plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. "It's not so bad," she lied, taking a bite. Mum and Lupin were both watching her closely, but she was determinedly avoiding their eyes as she fed Arnold a bit of egg.

"So you're staying for Christmas?" she asked Lupin. He smiled slightly and nodded.

"Andromeda—that's Tonks's mother, we've been staying with her—will be up tomorrow with your brothers, as I understand it," he said, looking to Mum, who nodded.

There were a few moments of silence, during which he frowned in the direction of the sitting room. "Perhaps I ought to go look after her…"

"Look after—Tonks?" Ginny repeated. "What's wrong? She's all right, isn't she?"

"I'm fine, Remus, what have you two been telling her?" Ginny turned. Tonks, sporting her favorite bright pink hair and faint dark circles beneath her eyes, leaned in the doorway, beaming.

And she was pregnant.

"Tonks! Merlin's pants!" Ginny cried.

Tonks laughed again. "Wotcher, you," she said, holding out one arm.

Ginny hurried to hug her. "Look at you!" she gasped.

Tonks grinned, rubbing her belly. Lupin had gotten to his feet as well and approached her, saying, "Your tea's getting cold. Are you all right?" Tonks made a face at him but settled herself into a chair and took a gulp of tea.

"This is so exciting," Ginny exclaimed, sitting down again. "When are you having the baby?"

"April," said Tonks, picking up Lupin's hand. "We're thrilled."

"Maybe you'll have a bit more success in getting her to relax than I've had," Lupin said pointedly, though he too was smiling.

"How are you, Ginny?" Tonks asked, ignoring him.

"I'm okay," she shrugged. "How are things here? How's the Order?" Mum shared a significant glance with Lupin and Tonks. "What?"

"Nothing," Tonks said. "It's just that…well, we're struggling a bit." Mum pursed her lips, but Ginny ignored her.

"It's difficult, with so few members," Lupin explained. "Tonks here can't do much—" Tonks whacked his arm— "I'm being watched closely by Greyback's pack…your family has to tread carefully. And with Kingsley gone—"

Ginny choked. "Kingsley?" she spluttered. "What—what happened? Did Vol—"

And suddenly, Tonks clapped a hand over Ginny's mouth, Mum shrieked, and Lupin roared, "NO!"

Ginny stared up at him, eyes wide. Tonks's hand was still clamped firmly over her mouth. Arnold had tumbled down behind Ginny's back and was wriggling around with muffled squeaks. Mum had upset her tea as she leapt up, wand drawn, just like Lupin's. They all seemed to be waiting for something. Seconds stretched into minutes, and when nothing happened, Tonks released her.

"You _cannot_ say that name, Ginny," she said weakly, massaging her heart.

Mum looked sharply at Lupin, who was just sitting down. He waved his wand, clearing up the spilled tea. "I think that's quite enough of all that."

"Why not?" Ginny asked Tonks, patting Arnold's fur as he squeaked in fear.

"It's had a Taboo placed on it," Tonks explained. She looked very white, but leaned across the table at took Ginny's hand. "Kingsley is fine, but he's on the run. That's how they got him. We didn't know they put the Taboo down until Death Eaters turned up in his flat."

Ginny nodded. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't know."

"It's all right," Lupin assured her. He drank the last of his potion and grimaced, then stood up. "Well, Molly, you said you had some chores I could help you with."

Mum smiled. "Would you bring in our tree? It's just outside. And I think there are some boxes I need from the attic. I'll go and find them." She stopped, putting a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "No more Order talk, all right? Make sure you clear your plate, sweetheart, and then I'll need your help decorating," she added, kissing Ginny's head.

And Ginny and Tonks were alone. Tonks sighed, leaning back, and smiled at her. "Had a good term?" Ginny frowned, arching one eyebrow, and Tonks snorted. "Well, at least you get to start Apparition next one."

Ginny gave a noncommittal shrug. She had the distinct impression that she was being subjected to one of Tonks's thoroughly disconcerting observational interrogations. Tonks had once told Ginny that she could draw more information out of an unwilling source by simply staring at them for a few minutes than they could tell her in an hour.

"Look," Ginny said at last, when she could stand no more of Tonks' scrutiny, "Can you tell Mum not to be so worried about me? What's happening at school…happens. No one can do anything about it, and I just really want to enjoy being home, you know? I don't want to spend every waking minute talking it over and over."

"I thought you might've been listening to us," Tonks said shrewdly.

"Will you tell her?" Ginny pressed. "She'll listen to you."

Tonks leaned her elbows on the table. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Ginny scooped Arnold off her shoulder and letting him scamper around her palms. She did not look up for several minutes.

Then Tonks sighed. "You know, Ginny, you and I are quite a bit alike," she said. "And so are our mothers, in some ways. You're only going to make her more anxious by bottling up whatever's hurting you so badly right now."

"Ginny!"

She started. "Coming, Mum! I—er—I'm going to go help."

Tonks nodded. "I'll be along in a minute."

For the rest of the day, Ginny made sure that she was as upbeat and busy as she could possibly be. She volunteered for every task her mother brought up. Lupin and Tonks strung garlands of golden crystal bubbles all across the house, illuminating every corner with a soft, glowing light.

Smells of mince pies and baking tarts wafted through the house as her mother started her cooking. Ginny tied mistletoe and holly wreaths along the stairs, wrapped and labeled Christmas presents, and even put up the tree with Lupin's help.

Her mother turned on the Wizarding Wireless Network and music played through the whole house. Ginny could feel her spirits lifting as she, Lupin, and Tonks laughed and chatted, festooning the house with copious amounts of red, gold, and green.

It was a wonderful day, but Lupin left around the time it started getting dark, and Ginny immediately noticed that Tonks was beginning to slow down.

At half-past seven, Ginny was standing on the second floor landing, attaching golden baubles to the rail, when she looked down to the sitting room below and saw Tonks suddenly sink onto the couch.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Tonks nodded quickly. "I'm fine," she mumbled. "I think I moved too fast."

At that moment, Mum came into the sitting room. "Ginny, your father's staying late at work and says we should eat without him. Tonks, come and have some dinner."

"I don't think I can eat anything right now, Molly, thanks," Tonks said, resting one hand on her belly. "I'll just—I think I'll go lie down. You can eat without me."

"Are you sure?" Mum asked.

"I'm fine, Molly, I promise," she insisted, getting to her feet and heading for the stairs. "I'll feel better if I sleep."

Mum looked worried nonetheless. "Up one, dear, all the way down the hall." When Tonks had gone, she sighed. "Come on, Ginny. Dinner."

Ginny gave one backward glance at Tonks's bedroom as she hurried downstairs, but followed her mother obediently into the kitchen and sat down. For one of only a few times in Ginny's memory, she was the only person at the table. The sight of so many unfilled places gave her a rather empty feeling inside, but she had no time to dwell on it; her mother was serving her a large plate of her favorite meal, chicken and ham pie.

"Thanks, Mum," she said happily.

"You look like you haven't eaten properly in weeks," her mother answered, laying a napkin in her own lap. "Does Neville look as hungry as you?"

Ginny smiled, albeit a bit tightly. "We're fine," she promised. "Just a busy term, you know how it is."

Mum dropped her fork with a clatter. "No, Ginny, I'm afraid I don't." Ginny stared at her, startled at her harsh tone. "You've been avoiding my eyes and everyone else's since you arrived home. You jump at the smallest noises, and you're putting on a very brave show for the rest of us, but you don't have me convinced."

"Mum, I—"

"I know that there's not much I can do for you when you're at school," she continued. "And I'm sorry about Luna, but you have to tell me if you're hurt, sweetheart, because I can't stand not knowing what's wrong with—with my—" Suddenly, she stood and walked over to the stove and set the teakettle to boil. Ginny watched her, unable to speak.

Then she came to sit down again, and when she spoke her voice was much more controlled. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Your father and I…all we ever want to do is protect you. You know that, don't you?"

Ginny nodded. "You and Dad have to know that if I thought you could somehow fix everything for me, I would let you. But you can't do anything, so you have to just trust me."

Mum stroked her hair. "I can't stand seeing you like this." She pulled Ginny into a hug.

"It—it'll all be over soon," Ginny said quietly, swallowing a lump in her throat. "It has to be. Everything will be okay again."

"Of course it will," her mother whispered. She gave a great sniff and released Ginny, turning back to her plate. "Eat your dinner, sweetheart."

The kitchen was silent for several minutes, but for the sounds of scraping cutlery. "So…erm…is Tonks all right?" Ginny asked at last.

Mum nodded, seeming grateful for the change of topic. "She'll be all right. She's having a difficult time of it, but that just happens, sometimes," she said. "We're all trying to help her, but…she's like you," she said, patting Ginny's hand. "She likes to take care of herself."

Ginny blinked, staring at the tabletop. She understood at last; her mother _wanted_ someone to worry about. With Ron missing, and Percy still refusing to speak to their family, all Mum wanted was a good reason to fuss over somebody, and for some reason, Ginny couldn't quite repress a grin.

So, after a couple of minutes, she spoke. "You know, Mum, I…uh….I hurt my back," she said softly.

"What, dear?"

"I hurt my back," Ginny repeated, her voice a bit stronger. "I don't quite know how, but…it's been bothering me for a couple of weeks. I was wondering if…I don't know, maybe you knew something that would help?"

Mum actually smiled just a bit, and Ginny's heart lightened as she said, "I'll see what I can do for you."

There was a sudden knock at the kitchen door, and Mum got up, approaching the kitchen door with her wand in hand. "Who is it?"

"It's Arthur," said Dad's tired voice from the other side. He must have had a stressful day, for he was being a bit sarcastic. "And I have no greater desire on this wide earth than to find out what makes airplanes stay up. I'd also really like a plate of whatever you've made that smells so good, Molly."

Ginny snorted as Mum opened the door and Dad staggered inside. He looked exhausted, and dropped into the other chair beside Ginny's.

"Hi, Gin," he mumbled, patting her head like a dog as Mum served him a plate. "Had a good day?"

She smiled. "It was fine. We decorated the house."

Dad nodded. "I saw Fred and George—they're coming home tomorrow morning, Molly, with Charlie, and they've agreed to pick up Andromeda, as well."

"Oh, not with your mouth full, Arthur," Mum chided, and Ginny giggled, getting up. "Where are you going?"

"Reckon I'll hang up the last of the decorations and go to sleep early. I'm sort of tired out," she said. "Night, Dad—Mum."

"I'll bring you some hot chocolate," Mum promised, and Ginny gave a brief wave to indicate that she had understood before hurrying through the sitting room and up the stairs to her bedroom. She paused on the landing; Bill's door, the room that Tonks and Remus were sharing, was propped open slightly.

Ginny went quietly to the room and peered in. Tonks lay curled on her side atop the bed, holding her belly. She appeared to be asleep, so Ginny made to shut the door.

"Whozair?"

"It's just me," Ginny answered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't wake me," Tonks said, shaking her head. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I just wanted to see how you were. D'you want…tea…or something?"

Tonks gave a faint chuckle. "I'm fine, thanks. Come and sit with me for a minute."

Ginny did so, perching herself on the bed, and Tonks sat up with some difficulty against the headboard—she seemed to be a bit dizzy. "You know, the idea of having a baby is really brilliant," she observed sleepily. "But I'm not sold on the part where you're waiting for it to arrive."

Ginny smiled. "Well, speaking as someone who has absolutely zero experience with babies, I think you're going to be just fine."

"Ah, that's right, you're the youngest," Tonks said, shaking her head. "No good. I should be talking to Bill about this."

"Well, he'll never steer you wrong," Ginny snorted.

Tonks was quiet for a moment, gently rubbing her belly. "You know, I'm sorry about earlier," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have tried to guilt you into telling us what's going on at Hogwarts. It's just that…well, I don't think I've ever seen you unhappy before."

Ginny rubbed the back of her neck. "I know I'm not myself…but the rest of you aren't normal, either," she said. "And I understand why, really I do. Things are absolutely mad right now. There's a part of me that doesn't even want to ask about everything that's happened while I've been gone. I…I just wish that…you could all see that a lot has happened to me, too. It's complicated," she sighed heavily.

"And just because you're young doesn't mean you should be treated like a child," Tonks agreed. "You'd rather we let your troubles alone, not fix them for you."

"I'd appreciate that, yeah," Ginny chuckled.

"Oh, _there's_ a real smile," Tonks answered. "I've been looking for one. I was ready to pull out my pig's snout for you." She paused for a moment. "I don't know how much you heard of what your mum said this morning, Ginny, but it all comes from a place of love. Dumbledore used to say, 'actions born of love rarely do us harm.'"

Ginny nodded, looking down at the floor.

"You know," Tonks said slowly, after a long stretch of silence. "I know a thing or two about this, so I feel comfortable saying it."

Ginny frowned. "What?"

"You've got a badly broken heart," said Tonks, watching her. "I couldn't put my finger on it right away, but…I think that's it."

"I—I don't think—that's not—" Ginny stammered, but Tonks shook her head.

"It's all right," she promised. "I think you'd be hard-pressed to find somebody who _doesn't_ miss Harry. But the two of you were different. Am I right?"

"I miss Ron and Hermione, too," Ginny mumbled. "Not just him." Her chin trembled, but she forced herself to regain control. "Ever since Luna…it's just really difficult to—to keep wanting to fight back, knowing that there's a good chance I might not see her, or Harry, or Ron, Hermione—any of them—again. Any of my brothers, my parents…I mean, what if this is my last Christmas with them? I can't keep doing this forever, I can't keep trying to stay on my feet and just hope that everything is okay when I know that it probably won't be."

Tonks smiled, though she was blinking rapidly. "It's all right to feel that way," she promised, taking Ginny's hand. "But I need you to listen to me for a moment, Ginny, and listen carefully, because I had to learn this the hard way. Whatever you're doing at school, whatever you've done that's got Snape so scared he's trying to frighten you out of doing it, then you need to keep going, no matter what. Miss Harry all you want, ask every 'what if' question in the world if you have to, but so help me, I will—" she gave a broken laugh, "—I will come up to that school myself if I even get wind of the idea that you might just give up."

Ginny stared at her.

"What counts most right now is that we hold onto the things that have made us happy and that keep us moving forward. Even if those things are gone, we still have to find ways to keep going. For me and Remus, the baby is our proof that life is going to go on." Tonks sighed. "You saw your friend get kidnapped, and I can't blame you for being frightened. Hogwarts is…well, it's almost gone, and I can't blame you for wanting to be home, either, where you can be sure your family is safe, just for a little while. But I think Harry would be unbelievably proud of what you've weathered in the last few months, and what you're still going to fight through. Because whatever he's doing, wherever he's gone, it's for all of us, and _that_ needs to be what keeps you going. Do you understand me?"

Slowly, Ginny nodded, and Tonks smiled faintly.

"You'll be all right," she said. "I promise. Oof—" She laughed as Ginny suddenly hugged her, and pulled back, smiling sheepishly as she rubbed her round belly. "Trust me, you don't want me to be sick on you."

"That's absolutely disgusting," Ginny told her helpfully, and Tonks laughed again.

"I'd better get some sleep," she sighed, leaning back on her pillows. "It'll be _my_ mum's turn to fuss over _me_ tomorrow, it's been almost a full day since she last saw me."

Ginny snorted. "G'night, then."

"'Night, you," Tonks beamed, pulling up her blankets. "Don't let me sleep too late, all right?"

"Excuse you, I'll be getting my _own_ beauty sleep," Ginny answered loftily, turning her nose in the air. Then she paused at the door, looking back at the shadowy form curled in the bed, illuminated only by cold, grayish moonlight streaming through the window. "Er—thanks, Tonks."

She smiled. "Go to bed, Ginny."

"Oh, spoken like a true mother," Ginny teased, and she ducked, shutting the door just as Tonks flung a pillow at her head.

On the landing, she ran into her mother, who was carrying a steaming mug of hot chocolate and looked as though she were on her way up to get ready for bed.

"Oh! Here, Ginny, I was just bringing this to you," Mum said. "I put a little something in it to help you relax, it should make your back feel a bit better if it's hurting you. If it doesn't work, you come and wake me straightaway, I'll find something else."

Ginny smiled, knowing that she would do no such thing. "Thanks, Mummy," she said, kissing her cheek. "Good night." Her mother looked a little bemused as Ginny, humming slightly, took her chocolate and slipped into her bedroom.


	13. Chapter 13

I almost forgot about posting...oops. :)

* * *

The twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall gleamed with floating golden bubbles and brilliant red garlands of glittering tinsel. Ginny smiled as tinkling music fluttered through the air.

"Hey! Ginny!"

She turned. Hermione, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Luna were gathered at the Gryffindor table, all wearing homemade violet sweaters. Hermione waved her over. "Come on, we've got gifts!"

No…Ginny had to go to the Room of Requirement, to prepare for the next D.A. lesson…she waved goodbye to the others, and left the Great Hall.

But when she did, everything changed. The music that had been lacing through the air vanished, and the warm glow dissipated as a chilly wind blew past her. The castle was dark, no torches in sight…but no, it was worse than that, much worse…

She looked down and realized that she stood on a pile of rubble in the middle of the entrance hall, gazing up the remains of the sweeping marble staircase. The roof overhead was gone, and clouds of dust and snow swirled and settled onto the ruins of the stone walls all around her.

She tried to shout out, but couldn't make any noise. Her heart began to race. What was going on?

A faint hissing noise made her turn. The doors of the Great Hall were hanging off their hinges, creaking ominously in the wind. As Ginny approached, the hissing grew louder, more familiar…it was horrible…she clapped her hands over her ears, but ran into the Great Hall.

Harry lay on the staff table, directly in front of Professor Dumbledore's golden chair, plainly dead. A trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, and his brilliant green eyes were blank and staring up at the ceiling.

Ginny screamed, but again, it made no sound…the basilisk's hissing was deafening, it scraped in her ears and set her teeth on edge…she began to run, heading straight for Harry, silently screaming his name…

And as she ran, she saw more dead bodies piled on the tables, their eyes wide, blank, and staring…Parvati…Professor McGonagall…Hermione…Luna…Neville…Seamus…Dean…_Ron_…

Her stomach gave a horrible lurch, and she reached out, trying to run fast enough to reach Harry…but everything was slowing down around her…she couldn't move, her legs were too heavy to lift, and the Great Hall was expanding, Harry's body was being pulled away from her outstretched fingers…

"Someone's been very bad," said a horrible voice. Unable to stop herself, Ginny turned to see Tom Riddle. His eyes were a burning, dark red, and his skin was white as chalk. "You've brought this on yourself, Ginny…it's all your fault…the Mudbloods are dying because of you…it's all your fault…you brought this on yourself…"

And suddenly, he began to laugh, terribly, an evil cackle that filled Ginny's heart with ice.

Harry's body appeared at her feet, motionless and staring blankly overhead, blood trickling from his mouth.

Ginny screamed, louder and louder, but she could not hear herself, she could not make any noise. She began to sob, but that made no sound, either, and she couldn't help but start to scream Harry's name again. She dropped to her knees and shook him by his shoulders, screaming for him to awaken…and then he became Luna, her face viciously savaged and bloody as Bill's had been, her large eyes lifeless and unblinking…

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHH!"

"Ginny! Ginny!"

"NO! LUNA, NO!"

"_Ginny, stop it!_"

Someone was holding down her arms, preventing her from moving, and Ginny was aware that she was safe…she was in her own bedroom…it was the middle of the night.

She blinked, squinting through the darkness. "Tonks?"

But Tonks was already halfway out the door; a moment later, Ginny heard her being horribly sick in the bathroom. Ginny curled up in a ball beneath her blankets, shaking and sweating as she clutched a pillow. Every image of her dream was burned ferociously into her mind.

Dead Harry…dead Luna…

Suddenly, a weight sank onto the bed beside her, and a gentle hand was smoothing her hair back.

"Come here," Tonks said quietly, resting herself against Ginny's headboard and opening her arms. She pulled Ginny, still curled in her tight ball, close against her belly and rubbed her back in gentle circles. "You're all right…you know you are…you're all right…"

It was a lie, but it was enough, for now.

* * *

"Is she alive?"

"You know, she's not so dangerous when she's in a little ball like that…"

"Downright cuddly, if you ask me."

Someone poked Ginny in the middle of her forehead, and she started awake. She blinked, and a familiar freckled face swam into view.

"Freddie," she mumbled, smiling.

"I'm George, you prat," said the face indignantly.

"You've got two ears, toadstool," she answered, reaching out and tugging on one of them. He grinned. "I haven't been gone that long. Oof—hi, George," she wheezed, for George had just seated himself on top of her stomach.

He pinched her cheek, beaming. "How are you, popkin?"

"Get off me," Ginny groaned, trying to shove him.

"Hey, it's Christmas Eve," Fred admonished. "Buck up! Yuletide spirit and all that! Come on, Mum's got breakfast waiting for you downstairs, Tonks and Remus are here, and Dad's taken the day off to sort his spark plugs."

"Charlie here?" Ginny asked, sitting up and sliding out of bed (George was good enough to release her).

"You'll have to come down and see for yourself," Fred answered, already halfway out the door.

"See you in a minute, popkin!" George called, waving.

"Call me that again and I'll jinx you, Christmas or not!" Ginny yelled after him, though she was smiling as she shut the door and scrambled to put on her clothes. Arnold was rolling about excitedly in his cage, so she lifted him onto her shoulder, where he promptly buried himself in her hair.

Her mother's cocoa had done the trick, Ginny realized, as she hurried downstairs; her back barely twinged at all. Well, that would please Mum, she thought.

The decorations in the living room looked even more glorious in the morning sunlight streaming through the sitting room windows, and the overwhelming Christmas excitement was thick in the air inside the jam-packed kitchen.

Tonks sat at one end of the table, dabbing a green ointment onto several long scrapes on Lupin's cheek. He had returned from his transformation looking quite drained, but pleased to be home. Tonks's hair was a vibrant shade of festive gold as she laughed at something George had just said. Charlie and Fred were arguing about Quidditch fouls and the prospects of the Chudley Cannons, who were currently at the bottom of the league.

Mum was at the sink, trying to peel potatoes with great difficulty. She couldn't stop giggling (in an extremely un-Mum-like fashion) because Dad kept sneaking up behind her and whispering something in her ear. Ginny wasn't at all sure she cared to know what it was, and so chose a seat facing away from her parents, beside Tonks.

"Morning, Ginny!" Charlie said happily, spotting her. He gave her a tight hug. "Happy Christmas."

"Good morning, sweetheart," trilled Mum, who was very pink in the cheeks as she brought a bowl of porridge to Ginny.

The house was so starkly different from how it had been just yesterday, from how Ginny had felt ever since she had left Neville's house, that she couldn't help but smile and join in with George, who was providing helpful suggestions for the naming of Tonks and Lupin's baby.

"Now, seriously, Remus, have you considered George?"

"And if it's a girl?" Lupin asked, looking amused.

"That's the best part, it works for both," George insisted, as Tonks and Ginny roared with laughter.

"We'll add it to the list, then," Tonks promised, still giggling. She caught Fred's eye and nodded. "Although Fred's already put his name in, as well. Oh, Mum—there you are—"

A woman had just walked in from the sitting room, and Ginny's heart gave a tiny spasm of fear—but then she realized that Bellatrix Lestrange would hardly be walking through her mother's kitchen, wearing a lovely set of lilac robes and a gracious smile.

"This is Ginny," Tonks was saying over the din of chatter. She put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Ginny, this is my mother, Andromeda."

Mrs. Tonks was a thin, careworn woman who, though she greatly resembled her sister in bearing, was in disposition her polar opposite. She extended one hand regally and took Ginny's.

"It's so nice to meet you, Ginny. I've heard a lot about you from Nymphadora," she said warmly. "Your parents were very kind to invite us here."

It was rather like being around a younger version of Neville's grandmother, Ginny thought with a small giggle, as Tonks rolled her eyes and George began trying to persuade Mrs. Tonks that naming the baby after him was really the best option available.

The rest of the day passed in this same, cheery mood. Ginny, George, Fred, and Charlie hurried outside to play a game of two-a-side Quidditch during a break in the snow, and returned to earth windswept and pink-cheeked from the cold. Around teatime, there was a knock at the door, and Bill came in, delivering his Christmas presents with a smile and a hug for everyone.

Ginny kept trying to corner him to say hello, but he seemed hurried and unwilling to stay long enough to talk to anyone alone. At long last, Mum gave up trying to convince him to change his mind and come to Christmas dinner, and they all said their goodbyes as Bill rushed out into the snow again, claiming that he really needed to return to Fleur.

"Give her a kiss for us!" Fred shouted through the back door.

"A really good one—oi!" George rubbed his head ruefully where Mum had swatted him.

"Behave yourselves," she admonished, heading back into the kitchen, although Ginny did not miss her sidelong, covert wink at Dad, who, a moment later, made a feeble excuse to Mrs. Tonks and hurried into the kitchen after her, grinning foolishly.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

After dinner that evening, everyone was cozily tucked into the sitting room. Ginny and Tonks were putting ornaments on the Christmas tree, while Fred and George played a particularly violent game of chess in the corner, as it involved Exploding Snap cards and Gobstones in addition to the chessmen. Mum was knitting, frowning through her spectacles as she counted stitches and chatted with Mrs. Tonks, and Dad was dozing in his armchair with a box full of batteries in his lap. Lupin and Charlie were listening to the Wizarding Wireless quietly near the window.

"It's an appalling book, Andromeda, don't even go near it," Mum was saying firmly.

Tonks and Ginny looked around. "Are you talking about Rita Skeeter's Dumbledore bilge, Molly?" Tonks asked contemptuously. "Did you hear what the big secret is?"

Mum pursed her lips. "As though it matters…Someone as good as Dumbledore was…honestly…" she made a noise of irritation not unlike one that Arnold often made when Ginny was late with his dinner, and shook herself, focusing on her knitting.

Mrs. Tonks, who was rolling a ball of yarn, shook her head. "I'm sure it all boils down to some one-time meeting in the street that she's completely blown out of proportion. Before Rita Skeeter finally got into the _Prophet_'_s _good graces after that sudden leave she took, she was clawing through a positive dungheap of gossip magazines, those ones that run things like, 'How to Tell When Your Neighbor is A Death Eater in Disguise' and all that rot."

"She found out about…well, about _our_ nearest and dearest," Tonks explained darkly, hooking an ornament onto a branch and rubbing her belly. "And ran an awful article about me, and Mum, _and_ Dad."

"She never did," Mum said, sounding shocked. "I never saw that!"

Mrs. Tonks looked rather haughty. "You're a woman of taste, Molly. You don't read her garbage."

"She's a nasty old cow," Tonks said firmly, lowering herself into a chair beside her mother. "But people want to know about Dumbledore, and she's the only one that's put anything out in this climate, because everyone who'd write something nice about him is too scared. Of course they'll believe what she says, even when we know it's not true." She closed her eyes and sighed, massaging her stomach.

"So what's the secret?" Ginny asked, looking between the three of them. She sat down on the hearth. "What's everyone so upset about?"

"She's saying that Dumbledore was friends with Gellert Grindelwald, and got cold feet before they could hatch a dastardly plot to enslave the Wizarding _and_ Muggle worlds," Tonks answered with biting sarcasm. "Cow."

"Grindelwald?" Ginny repeated. "But—"

"Now, Ginny, don't you believe a word of it," Mum said sharply, and she looked rather upset. "Not a word. That book is an outright lie."

"Not to mention it casts aspersions on many prominent and well-liked members of the Wizarding community who considered themselves friends of Dumbledore," Mrs. Tonks said in a low voice. "If nothing else, it's practically handed the Death Eaters a list of names that is proving quite useful in their attempts to locate his supporters."

Ginny frowned, still deeply troubled by the idea of Professor Dumbledore being anything less than the wizard she had known. Certainly, she never imagined that she knew very much about his past, but in her mind, Dumbledore could never be anything but the teacher who took one look at her, shaking and frightened from her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, and promised that she would not be expelled from Hogwarts.

But at the same time, claiming that he once had ambitions to enslave Muggles just like Voldemort was an awfully big lie to tell, even by Rita Skeeter's standards. There was a nasty little voice in the back of Ginny's mind, telling her that somehow, there was a grain of truth in what Tonks had just said. The idea sickened her, and she pushed it away.

"She's included a positively cruel chapter on Harry, as well," Tonks said, for she seemed to have guessed at Ginny's moody expression. "The book is nothing but lies, and if there is an ounce of truth in it, it hardly matters, because it all happened a hundred years ago."

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. "Well, Tom Riddle only happened fifty years ago, but he's still causing a few problems today," she muttered. "Excuse me." Quickly, she got up and hurried into the kitchen, hunching over the sink.

Far from still believing that Rita Skeeter's story was anything more than rumor and overblown hearsay, she had just been overtaken with a sudden wave of anxiety. Perhaps it was the mention of Harry, but the back of her mind had been hovering around him, Ron, and Hermione all day long, and now she simply couldn't shake her inexplicable nerves.

"So, our little sister's following in our footsteps," said a cheerful voice just behind her. She turned. Fred and George were grinning at her arms folded. They had cornered her against the sink.

She stood on her tiptoes and looked into the sitting room, where her mother was chatting with Mrs. Tonks. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," she said coolly.

"It's the D.A., right?" Fred asked eagerly.

"Shh," Ginny implored. She looked around again, and gestured for the twins to follow her into the scullery, where she shut the door and cast a _Muffliato_ charm on it. When she turned back again, Fred and George had perched themselves atop a laundry tub and were looking at her expectantly. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes."

George gave a triumphant gesture that nearly knocked Fred out cold and leapt to his feet. "I knew it! I knew you'd never let it go!"

"'Course not," Ginny said easily. Somehow, she had forgotten that while her parents might disapprove, she could still confide in Fred and George. "I mean, there aren't many of us, but…"

"You still using those coins?" George demanded.

"You still have yours?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Of course we do," Fred told her. "That's a genius bit of magic, that is, we've been trying to replicate it for two years, but we've decided we just have to swallow our pride and ask Hermione to do it for us."

"Why?" asked George.

"You can pass news to us!" Ginny cried. "You can—Merlin's pants—and if Katie, and Angelina…do Alicia and Lee have theirs?"

"Dunno," answered Fred with a shrug. "Probably…"

"If I give you instructions for a spell, can you work it on the coins?" Ginny asked.

"Er…sure…"

"Good." Ginny sat down on another washtub opposite them. "Luna's dad was our only means of getting news, and I'm betting he's not so keen on helping us anymore. Lupin can't come anywhere near the school, so I'm counting on you two. You're going to relay any news you get of the Order, or of…disappearances, or of Harry, to us—"

"Whoa," George interrupted.

"Not that we don't love seeing our little Ginny like this," Fred laughed, "But we may have a better way to do that."

Ginny frowned. "What?"

"Potterwatch," said George.

She blinked. "Pardon me? What was that?"

"Potterwatch," Fred repeated. "We've got our own news program. It's like a bit of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix together. We're coded on the Wizarding Wireless, and you can't find us unless you get the password from the newscast."

"That's brilliant," said Ginny, thoroughly startled by this proclamation. "When do you do it?"

"Saturday nights at midnight," George told her. "Unless we can't find a safe place."

"Safe—?"

"Well, as Kingsley's on the show, it's not exactly the best idea to have it in our flat, is it?" George interrupted.

Ginny laughed. "This is amazing! This is a million times better than what we've been doing—Neville's going to go mad!"

"I think I'd still like that spell, though," Fred said, looking closely at her. "That way, you can let _us_ know _you're _okay. Mum's right, you look ill."

"I'm not ill," Ginny snapped, a bit of her good mood dissipating at the thought of her mother talking to each of her brothers in turn about her health. "I'll give you the stupid spell, all right?"

"Vandalism, eh?" George asked after a minute or two. "Been using any of our products?"

"Decoy Detonators, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and Indelible Ink," she rattled off.

"Bless them," Fred said, putting one hand over his heart. Ginny snorted.

George stood up, dusting his hands on his trousers, and walked to the scullery door. "I think you'll like your Christmas present, Ginny."

"Don't worry," said Fred enigmatically, stopping on the threshold. "We'll help you pack."

* * *

Though Ginny's sleep was once again troubled and broken by nightmares, many of which involved Harry, Ron, and Hermione under attack by a flying book while Luna screamed for help from distant rooms within Hogwarts, it was with a light heart that she awoke on Christmas morning to a positive blizzard outside the Burrow. There was a small pile of Christmas presents waiting at the end of her bed, into which she dove eagerly.

Her mother had made her a lovely blue sweater bearing the image of an owl, as well as two tins of mince pies and homemade fudge. Her father apparently felt that the time was ripe for Ginny's bedroom to be spruced up, for he had gotten her a brand-new Holyhead Harpies poster. Tonks and Lupin had purchased a lovely new cage for Arnold that, the label read, could prevent any escape and had an enchantment on it that would help any pet inside fall asleep easily and quietly.

She received a pair of earrings that could change color in order to match her outfit from Bill and Fleur, and Charlie had made her a tiny model of an Antipodean Opaleye dragon, which roared and tottered around her bedside table.

Smiling, Ginny set all of these aside, and turned to her last gift, a sealed scroll. She picked it up and slit it open to see four words in Fred's handwriting.

_Look under the bed._

Confused, Ginny slowly leaned over the side of her bed, lifting the quilt aside, and gasped. Three large boxes emblazoned with the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes logo sat crammed together in the tiny space. Even without opening them, she knew that they contained everything that she and the rest of Dumbledore's Army could possibly want for the coming term.

"Wow," she whispered, pulling one box towards her. She lifted the lid to see a pile of various Shield Garments and several large bags of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

"Ginny?"

With a yelp, she tumbled out of bed, landing directly at Tonks's feet.

"Very smooth," Tonks laughed, offering her a hand. "Come on, your mum's got breakfast going. Ah—make sure you hide that," she added, pointing at the box of Fred and George's products.

Ginny grinned sheepishly and toed it under that bed. "Don't tell Mum?"

"I didn't see a thing," Tonks said, already halfway out of the room.

Ginny chuckled and shut the door behind her, dressing hurriedly. The Christmas spirit was thick in the air inside the crammed Burrow. They were almost completely snowbound for the entire day, and everyone made up for it by gorging themselves on Mum's mince pies and treacle tarts.

After dinner, Fred and George presented Mum with a beautiful new set of dark blue dress robes, which Mrs. Tonks greatly admired, even going so far as to compliment the twins on their good taste. Ginny however, was too hysterical with laughter at her father's elation over his own gift from Fred and George, which was an old-fashioned Muggle camera.

Predictably, he had only a rough idea of how it might work.

"No, Dad—come on, you can't see anything through that one, can you?" Ginny asked, reaching for it and cleaning off the lens, through which her father had been trying to peer. "Here—my friend Colin had one just like this…" And, ignoring the tiny pang in her heart at the memory of Colin Creevey and his omnipresent camera, she showed her father how it worked.

"Oh, I see," he said after a quarter of an hour, twiddling a knob. "That's for how much light you need…and that changes the focus…"

"No, the other way round, Dad," Ginny laughed. "Here, look," she said patiently, taking the camera from him again and fixing the focus.

Dad was nothing short of a menace from that point onward. Everyone cursed Ginny and the twins as they had unflattering, candid portraits taken when they were caught off guard.

"Arthur, take one more picture of me in this kitchen and you'll sleep in the shed!" Mum shrieked.

Charlie, Ginny, Fred, and George roared with laughter as Dad came scampering out of the kitchen, a soupspoon flying just behind him and landing with a clatter on the hearth. They turned back to their game of Exploding Snap-Gobstone-chess, which, Ginny was quickly learning, was a test of agility more than anything else.

"Duck, Fred!"

"Eurgh…how old are these Gobstones? That Stink Serum is rotten," Charlie groaned, flicking his wand so that the mess disappeared from his new Christmas sweater.

"Here, Dad, let me see," Ginny said, slipping out of her chair and taking the camera.

He grinned and pointed over at the couch. "Tonks, Remus," he called, and Ginny looked around. "Smile!"

Tonks was stretched out lazily on the sofa with her legs in Lupin's lap, one arm bent behind her head and the other hand holding his. They both smiled, and Tonks gave a little wave. With a small pang of envy, Ginny snapped perhaps the only salvageable photograph of the evening.

When Mum and Mrs. Tonks came in bearing two large trays laden with cakes and desserts, Fred and George turned on the wireless, and for the first time in two days, Ginny was forcibly reminded that there were, in fact, terrible things happening in the world outside the Burrow's walls.

The first statement was about the reward available for information on the whereabouts of Harry Potter. Ginny stiffened in her seat, but they made no further mention of Harry.

The newscaster then announced the list of names of Muggleborns who had failed to appear before the Ministry of Magic for interrogation, and it was with an unpleasant jolt that Ginny heard Hermione's name. Mum seemed to tighten her hold on her knitting needles, and Dad accidentally knocked over several chessmen. Ginny shared a glance with Tonks, who looked deeply troubled.

The room grew quieter and quieter as the list went on. With more sickening jolts of her stomach, Ginny heard Colin and Dennis Creevey's names, as well as Dean Thomas's, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and, a short while later, Ted Tonks. At that moment, her mother flicked her wand at the radio, changing the channel to a rerun of a Celestina Warbeck Christmas Special.

Mrs. Tonks, who had been sitting tensely in her seat, stood suddenly and hurried up the stairs. Tonks, who was still on the couch, sighed heavily.

"I'd better go up," she said quietly to Lupin, who nodded, and they both got to their feet. "G'night, all…Happy Christmas."

There was a murmured reply, and Tonks and Lupin disappeared up the rickety staircase. Dad leaned over and switched off the radio.

There were several long moments of silence. Mum had stopped knitting, and was staring down at the scarf clutched tightly in her hands.

When she did not speak, Dad cleared his throat. "I think it's time you all were in bed," he said quietly.

No one argued. With mumbled "good nights" and "Happy Christmases," Ginny followed Charlie and the twins upstairs.


	14. Chapter 14

The rest of the Christmas holidays passed far too quickly. Lupin, Tonks, and her mother left the Burrow on Boxing Day (though Tonks promised that they would be back to see Ginny off to school), and from then on, Fred, George, and Charlie never stopped by for much longer than a meal or two.

On the day before she was meant to return to school, Ginny woke up to find that Bill and Fleur had arrived to stay for the entire day. They maintained that their visit was in order to see Ginny and avoid the terrible cold snap that had seized Shell Cottage, but Fred and George insisted that Bill, who seemed much more cheerful and talkative now, had simply caved in under Mum's guilt about missing Christmas.

That night, after dinner, Ginny sat down beside Bill on the sofa. He put an arm around her, and she leaned against his shoulder.

"Nervous for tomorrow?" he asked.

She shook her head, and Bill laughed.

"Shut up," Ginny mumbled, giving him a shove.

"You'll be all right," he promised. "It's only a couple weeks until the Easter holidays, right?"

Ginny sighed. "That's not what I'm counting down to."

"Yeah," Bill agreed. "I know."

At that moment, Fleur came into the sitting room, but when she saw Bill and Ginny together, she smiled and quickly returned to the kitchen.

"The twins told me about their Christmas present," said Bill, lowering his voice. Ginny nodded. He faced her, looking grave. "Whatever you do, Ginny, will you promise me that you'll be careful?"

"We're not being—that's not our problem, Bill, we're pretty careful," Ginny retorted impatiently.

He held up a hand. "No, I know," he interrupted, "your problem is that Snape knows you. But I want you to be careful because of that. I say go for it, keep doing what you're doing, but don't give Snape one more reason to harass Mum and Dad."

Ginny felt a twinge of guilt, and not just because she felt responsible for much of her parents' distress and unhappiness. She had a feeling that no one would be as supportive of her as they were now if they knew that torture was the risk that she and the rest of Dumbledore's Army were running.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Ginny's goodbye the next morning was quite emotional. Her mother was especially upset, and it was with a heavy heart that Ginny hugged her and promised to write. She would be getting back to school via the Knight Bus, accompanied by Fred and George.

"Mum, please don't cry," Ginny pleaded quietly, as Mum held her close. "I'll—I'll be all right…"

"Your father sends all his love," Mum answered, sniffing. "We'll be there to get you at Easter, no matter what. I promise."

Ginny smiled slightly. "Be—be safe, okay?" She looked at Fred and George, who were making gagging motions over by the front door, and Charlie, who grinned at her. "_All _of you."

Mum nodded and straightened Ginny's scarf. "Don't worry about us, dear."

There was a sudden clatter at the back door, and Charlie ran through the kitchen to answer it. A moment later—

"Has she left yet?"

Tonks, dragging Lupin by the hand and both wrapped in heavy winter cloaks, came barreling into the sitting room. Tonks was looking wildly around.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" she cried, hurrying over. "I thought we'd missed you."

"You didn't Apparate here, Tonks?" Mum asked, eyeing her worriedly as she squeezed Ginny in a tight hug.

Lupin shook his head. "She woke up late and almost ran out of the house in her pajamas."

"Oh, I'll be all right," Tonks said, hugging Ginny again. "But I would've felt awful if I didn't get to see you for three more months!"

"We'll miss you, Ginny," Lupin said, taking his turn to embrace her.

"When you come back, there may be someone else for you to meet," said Tonks excitedly, patting her belly, and Ginny grinned.

Charlie was looking at his watch. "You three had probably better get going," he said gently to Fred and George, who nodded and hurried out into the grayish snowfall.

With more embraces and tears from her mother, Ginny was at last hurried onto the Knight Bus after the twins, who were carrying her luggage. She waved at her mother, who was standing in the doorway of the Burrow, until with a loud bang, the bus jumped all the way to a gloomy, rainy street in London.

Fred and George paid the conductor and helped Ginny take her trunk and Arnold's cage to find chairs that were not toppled over or broken. They finally settled at the very back of the bus, in three armchairs not unlike those in the Gryffindor common room.

Ginny couldn't help but notice how empty the Knight Bus was. There was only one wizard on their level, and there couldn't have been more than two or three people on the decks above, to judge by the voices that she could hear.

"So," Fred said, clinging to his seat as the bus rounded a sharp corner. "What's your plan?"

"Still using the Room of Requirement, right?" George asked.

Ginny nodded. "We're going to have to wait and see. People—well, they aren't going to feel very good about all this when they find out what happened to Luna."

"Don't count your dragons before they're hatched," Fred said firmly, as his armchair teetered dangerously. "And don't underestimate the D.A."

Ginny looked out the rain-soaked window and nodded.

"What aren't you telling us, Gin?"

She looked around at George, who was watching her shrewdly.

"There's something you're hiding, and you've been hiding it since you got home," he continued. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Ginny lied.

Fred had narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, looking at her closely. "We've got quite a while to get it out of you, Ginny. Now, we can do it the easy way, or we can do it our way."

"There's nothing going on," she insisted.

George reached into his pocket and examined a small, multicolored candy. "I don't think anyone would be surprised if I got sick from all this movement, do you, Fred?"

"Don't be a prat," Ginny snapped.

"Not at all, George," Fred answered, as though she hadn't spoken. "You might even faint…or get a nosebleed…"

"Could be," George said seriously.

"Will you stop?" Ginny demanded. "You'll get us thrown off!"

"Tell us what's happening, then," Fred answered, so seriously that for a moment, Ginny saw their father in his face.

"I—" She stared between them, desperate to find a way out. George was still rolling the Puking Pastille between his thumb and forefinger. She sighed heavily.

"Does it have to do with those—Carrows?" Fred asked.

Ginny nodded.

"They're doing something to you," George said. "I knew it! What have they done?"

"It's—it's not so bad," Ginny insisted.

"Ginny, you have three seconds—"

"Cruciatus Curse," she mumbled, staring down at her knees. She couldn't look up at her brothers. "When—when we get caught…that's what happens."

There was no sound but for the rumbling of the Knight Bus down a rain-soaked country road, and the sound of someone vomiting on one of the upper decks. Ginny couldn't bring herself to look at Fred or George.

"Please tell me you're joking."

Ginny shook her head, still not looking at them.

"So you're telling me," Fred said angrily, "That we just handed you all a bunch of tools that'll get you _tortured_?"

Ginny shrugged. "Kind of."

George sighed heavily, and they were all silent for a long moment.

"You can't tell Mum and Dad," said Ginny at last.

"I should bloody well think not," Fred answered shortly. He rubbed his face, clearly thinking hard. "But we can't just let you—I mean—" He looked at George, lost for words.

"You're going to have to let me," Ginny told him firmly. "It's not up to you."

"She's right, actually," said George, who was staring at Ginny as though he'd never seen her properly before. "I mean," he added to Fred, "she's completely barking mad, but she's right. But Merlin's pants, Ginny, I can't believe what you're doing."

And to Ginny's great surprise, he smiled at her.

She gave a nervous laugh. "Well, hanging around you lot was bound to rub off on me sometime."

"Us?" Fred asked incredulously. "I think I'll be speaking to Harry next time he decides to show his face…"

"I'm scared."

If her brothers had not been gaping at her as though she had professed a secret desire to become a Death Eater, Ginny would not have believed herself capable of making such an admission.

"I'd think you were stupid if you weren't scared, Ginny," said Fred slowly. "But as I know for a fact that you take after George and myself, that's just not possible."

She smiled slightly.

Fred looked at George, who nodded. "We won't tell Mum and Dad," he continued. "But—but you can't let it happen again, all right? Do everything—"

"I don't have much say in the matter, Fred," she interrupted sadly.

He nodded. "Yeah…I was afraid of that," he said, but he gave her a grin.

"Only one thing you can do, in that case," George said thoughtfully. Ginny stared at him. "Make us proud."

"Excuse me, but Hogwarts is our next stop," called the conductor, a plump, cheerful witch seated comfortably at the front of the bus.

"Thanks," said George, as with a loud bang, the Bus jumped to the end of High Street in Hogsmeade. The rain had turned to iron-gray sleet, almost invisible against the cold, dark skies.

They struggled to get Ginny's trunk off of the bus and stood before the gates of Hogwarts, which stood open, guarded on each side by burly wizards who glared menacingly through the sleet at the newcomers.

"Come on," Fred shouted; the wind was picking up, blowing the sleet sideways. "Looks like someone's come down to meet you." He pointed at the path between the gates, where a tall, thin, cloaked figure stood waiting for Ginny. She hugged Fred and George each one last time, and began fighting her way over to the gate.

Professor McGonagall was standing just inside the gates, wrapped in a thick tartan cloak. "Come along, Miss Weasley," she yelled over the roaring winds.

It was an arduous path up the hill to Hogwarts, the inclement weather worsened by the unmistakable presence of dementors. Ginny could not see them, swirling high up in the clouds, but after nearly a month of being deprived of enough emotions on which to feed, they seemed to be making up for their hunger twice as fiercely. She felt the familiar ball of anxiety and fear settling down in the pit of her stomach.

There was a large crowd of sopping wet and disgruntled students gathered in the entrance hall, waiting to be examined by Mr. Filch's Secrecy Sensors under the watchful eyes of the Carrows, who stood on the marble staircase. Ginny looked around; she could see Parvati and Lavender standing near several Ravenclaw fourth years. Neville and Seamus were talking to Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones, who all looked extremely grave.

Ginny tried not to let her nerves get the best of her as Mr. Filch examined her person and luggage. Fred and George had promised her that the charms they were performing to squeeze everything in would not set off any warnings, but as they had hidden their work even from her, she couldn't be sure.

They had been correct. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ginny was allowed to go to Gryffindor Tower, following a long line of giggling first and second years who immediately fell silent as they passed Alecto Carrow, standing at the top of the stairs. She glared at Ginny, who pointedly ignored her and continued up the staircase.

"Ginny!"

She turned. Evelyn Alistair was hurrying over to her. "Hi, Ginny," she said happily. She was dragging a trunk that outweighed her twice over, and looked a good deal more cheerful than she had been the last time Ginny saw her.

"Hi, Evelyn, how are you?"

"Oh, I'm all right. Holidays were too short," her expression darkened for a moment, then cleared, "But I'm glad to see my friends. How was your Christmas?"

Ginny nodded. "It was nice."

"Did you see your six brothers?" Evelyn asked eagerly. "I saw all of mine."

"Erm—yeah," Ginny lied. "I got to see my family."

"Evelyn! Evelyn, over here!"

Evelyn looked around to see several of her fellow first years waving her over. "I have to go. I'll see you later, Ginny!" And she darted off, leaving Ginny shaking her head in amusement.

When she made it up to her dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, Parvati and Lavender were already unpacking, and greeted Ginny enthusiastically.

"When's the next meeting?" Parvati demanded, releasing her from a hug.

"I haven't talked to Neville yet," said Ginny, "But listen—"

"Did you hear about Fenrir Greyback attacking that little child over Christmas?" Lavender asked. "It's terrible, I heard so much news that we never found out. I hope Luna's convinced her dad that we need better information…"

Ginny's heart twisted. "Listen—both of you—"

"How's Ron doing?" Parvati asked kindly, sitting down on the end of her bed. "It must've been nice to see him."

"_Listen_," Ginny interrupted, and Parvati and Lavender fell silent. "We couldn't—we couldn't put it in a message to everyone over the break, but…" She trailed off. Her throat felt like it had closed off.

Parvati seemed to read the worst in her face. "What happened?" she asked ominously.

Ginny closed her eyes and sighed. "Luna—Luna was kidnapped."

Lavender's mouth fell open. "What?" she whispered, and Ginny nodded.

"As everyone was leaving the platform at King's Cross…two Ministry workers took her," she answered softly. "Neville and I tried to fight back, and his grandmother, too—but—they got her."

Lavender seemed to sway a little bit, and dropped down on the bed as well. Parvati had tears in her eyes. "And—is—is she—?"

"I don't know," Ginny answered. "Neville reckons she might be in—in Azkaban."

Lavender put her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide open. "We need to call a meeting," she said in a muffled voice. "The others have to hear this."

Ginny nodded. "I'll talk to Neville."

"He was with the Hufflepuffs," Parvati said. "They looked really upset about something."

"What else can possibly go wrong?" Lavender asked angrily.

"Don't say that," Ginny said, perhaps a little sharply. She turned away and heaved her trunk onto her bed, preparing to unpack. As she did so, she caught sight of a dementor hovering in the swirling clouds outside her window, its long cloak flapping in the wind. She shuddered.

* * *

The first day of classes was a jarring one. In every lesson she normally had with Luna, Ginny found herself sitting beside an empty seat. What was more, there were several more students in her year who didn't seem to have returned from their holidays. That they had been kidnapped like Luna seemed unlikely, but it was apparent that more and more people were going into hiding.

Ginny began to wonder how or if, with the new rules on compulsory attendance at Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic were trying to track down those who had left.

She got her answer at the end of her Charms lesson three days into the new term, when Professor McGonagall appeared in the corridor and beckoned imperiously for Ginny to follow her.

Five minutes later, with a feeling of dread mingled with terrible déjà vu, she found herself in McGonagall's office, waiting tensely for her to speak.

"Miss Weasley, Mr. Coote has chosen not to return for this term," said Professor McGonagall plainly. "I'm afraid that you'll be completing your prefect duties alone, until I appoint a replacement." Ginny nodded. "I must also ask you," she added in a resigned tone, "whether or not you know anything of Mr. Coote's whereabouts."

Ginny lifted her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Professor, no."

"If you hear anything from him or regarding his absence, you are to report it directly to Professor Carrow or the headmaster," said Professor McGonagall in a tone that plainly suggested she was only doing what she was forced to do, and the first person to report a fellow student would be hexed beyond recognition.

"Yes, ma'am," Ginny answered. She waited for a few moments, unsure if she was being dismissed.

"I understand that Miss Lovegood—well, I've heard about what seems to have happened," Professor McGonagall said stiffly. "And that you and Mr. Longbottom witnessed it."

Ginny nodded once.

McGonagall's eyebrows contracted tightly together into a deep line. "And in reflecting upon that, and our conversation shortly before the end of term, have you come to a different conclusion about what I have repeatedly told you?"

"No." The force of the answer stunned even Ginny, though she could not have meant it more. "I mean, no, Professor. We haven't."

Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared momentarily, and she seemed to be fighting to control herself. "Miss Weasley, you understand that I have no intention of allowing you to continue this—this behavior into the new term. The headmaster is intent upon rooting out those students who deliberately cause chaos within the school, and it is our duty as faculty to report honestly to him."

For a moment, Ginny felt as though the floor had dropped out beneath her. Then she found her voice. "You—you wouldn't really do that, ma'am—" She trailed off again at the expression on Professor McGonagall's face.

"When it comes to the safety of students, there is very little that I would not do," she said coldly. "But I agree with you that outside interference is uncalled for in this instance. I would feel much more secure in putting the problem to rest at its core."

Something snapped in Ginny; she felt angry, furious at what she could only see as McGonagall's cowardice in the face of the cruelty of Snape and the Carrows. How could she sit there and act as though she alone knew what was best, after all that Ginny had seen and lived through at the hands of people who were meant to be her teachers?

"I'm going to be late for my next lesson, Professor," she said through gritted teeth, rising stiffly and walking, lock-kneed, to the door.

"I did not dismiss you, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall answered sharply, but Ginny was already out the door, her blood pounding in her ears.

She stormed all the way down to the Great Hall, where lunch was just ending, and sought out the person she needed to see—Neville was sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table by himself, and Ginny dropped into the seat beside him.

"Er, hi," he said warily. "Why are you all red? Did you run here?"

Taking care to keep her voice as even as possible, Ginny relayed what Professor McGonagall had said.

"N-no," Neville said disbelievingly, when she had finished. "McGonagall wouldn't sell us out."

"She's angry enough to threaten it, and that's almost as bad," Ginny retorted. "How can she do this? She has to know we're not going to stop—"

"Y'know, my gran was pretty out of sorts about the whole thing," Neville said uneasily.

"You told her?" she demanded exasperatedly. "Neville!"

"You're kidding, right?" he asked sarcastically. "She figured out almost everything on her own! But she reckons we're biting off more than we can chew, tangling with Death Eaters—"

"First time that's ever happened, eh?" Ginny snorted.

"You know what I mean," Neville interrupted.

"So what, you think we should listen to McGonagall?" she asked, outraged at his even temper. Why was he not as infuriated as she felt? "Think we should just give it all up, never mind, we'll just be scared off and let _our school_ get overrun with Death Eaters while we sit around hoping Harry comes back soon—"

"Who said that?" said Neville incredulously. "Bloody hell, Ginny, give me a little credit here."

Ginny paused. "Sorry."

"You said I was going to be a good leader," he replied. "So don't just write me off that way."

"Sorry," she said again, and he nodded. "It's just," Ginny continued, "I don't know about you, but I'm getting very, _very_ tired of being told what I can and can't handle. And I'm tired of people trying to stop me from doing what we all know has to be done." Involuntarily, her eyes flickered over to the Ravenclaw table. Neville followed her gaze for a moment.

"Did McGonagall ask you about where Coote is? Or Geoffrey Hooper?" he asked. Ginny nodded. "Me, too."

"She doesn't really want to know," she said slowly. Her anger was starting to ebb a bit, though there was still quite a bit of resentment towards Professor McGonagall taking up residence in the pit of her stomach. "She'd rather have them far away and safe than here, getting in trouble."

There was a long pause. "We've got to organize a D.A. meeting," Neville said at last. "I was thinking tonight."

Ginny lifted her eyebrows. "Tonight?"

"Look," Neville said seriously, pointing up at the wall over the staff table, where, at long last, the message from Dumbledore's Army had faded. "We've all just come back, we're nervous, our friends are missing. And the Hufflepuffs—Ernie and Hannah, and Susan Bones, I mean—there's something they're not telling us. They were having some kind of argument and wouldn't talk to me or Seamus last night."

Ginny released a slow breath through her teeth. "We've all got to start being more open with each other, you know. That's what our problem's been this whole time. Luna didn't think she could tell us what was happening with her dad, and now look. And I know it's my fault," she added, overriding Neville's protest, "For trying to make us go it alone in the first place, but I want to make it right. And that starts with banding together again."

Neville stared at her, his expression steeling. "I'll call the meeting. Tonight, an hour before curfew."

"Excellent." Ginny grinned.

"Wow," said Neville. "That's…a lot of stuff."

Ginny nodded. "Fred and George reckon we should carry on, and they lend their full support, provided we're a bit more careful about catching detentions." She picked up a small device from the pile of Weasley products she had just presented to him, Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender. "These are the newest Decoy Detonators. We've got a whole bunch of Skiving Snackboxes, too."

Seamus sniggered. "I think I feel a bit of Umbridge-itis coming on."

They were in the Room of Requirement, waiting for the rest of the D.A. to arrive. Parvati and Lavender, who had been perusing the shelves full of Defense Against the Dark Arts books, came over to examine the small mountain of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes merchandise that lay at Ginny's feet.

"How did you get all of this in?" Parvati asked in amazement.

"Fred and George," said Seamus and Ginny in unison.

"Where _are _they?" Neville asked, looking at his watch. "We've got a little less than an hour before curfew."

"Macmillan gave me one hell of a glare when I reminded him to show up," Seamus said, looking unusually concerned. "I thought it was just him being a fussy little…"

The words were barely out of his mouth when the door of the room opened, and they all looked around. Susan Bones, her eyes red and puffy, crept in, looking very nervous.

"Hi, Susan," said Ginny, rising warily.

She gave a weak smile that disappeared immediately. "I, erm…well…the others wanted me to—to tell you…they can't make it," she said.

Ginny stared at her. "What?"

"Ernie, and Hannah, I mean…and some of the Ravenclaws," she mumbled. "They're…not coming."

"Not coming?" Neville repeated, his voice rising. "Why not?"

Susan mumbled something about being busy, and she would not look up from her shoes.

"Well, maybe we should—I dunno—reschedule," Ginny suggested.

"I—I don't think that'll work," Susan blurted out, and then she looked upset with herself. "I'm really sorry," she added. "I—I'd better get going…"

"Susan, wait a moment!" Lavender cried, hurrying after her, but she was already out the door and gone. Lavender let the door swing shut and faced the others.

"What was _that?_" Parvati asked. "You don't think they've been scared off?"

"After all that fuss Ernie made about not being frightened?" asked Lavender. "Hardly. And nothing's even happened yet to frighten them!"

"What, then?" Ginny asked, racking her brains for an answer, some kind of explanation. "Are they angry about something?"

"Maybe they really just couldn't make it," Parvati said, shaking her head.

"No, if that were true, they would've just told Neville during the day," said Lavender. "They _sent_ Susan, she was their messenger…"

"There's something going on that they're keeping from us," Seamus said angrily.

"Seamus," Parvati said, as though she didn't think this was very likely. Ginny, however, had to agree with Seamus. Why else would the rest of Dumbledore's Army have chosen to abandon the meeting? Anger was bubbling in her heart.

"I'll get Macmillan, I swear," Seamus muttered. "He's put the rest of them up to it."

"You don't know that, Seamus," Parvati snapped. "And we can't start fighting amongst ourselves. Let's just—look, let's just try again another night—"

"No," Neville said suddenly, and they all looked at him. His expression was cold and set. "Ginny and I wanted to call this meeting for exactly this reason, to get us all back together again. I say we carry on. If they're going to leave us in the dust, then fine. That's their problem, not ours."

"You're kidding," Ginny said loudly.

"No, I'm not," Neville responded, even louder. "We're trying to make this work. Either they'll get on board again and tell us what's going on, or they won't. We can't make them do anything they don't want to, but we're not powerless without them."

Silence met this pronouncement. This was the most ferocious that any of them had ever seen Neville, and Ginny had a feeling that their conversation in the Great Hall, as well as having two weeks to ruminate on Luna's kidnapping was precisely what lay behind this new attitude.

"Now, I think we should stick to what we know we can do," Neville continued, starting to pace back and forth. "Graffiti on the walls is a great idea, because they can't get rid of it and everyone sees it, so I want to do the entrance hall."

"That's pretty exposed," Lavender said. "It's easier to get caught down there."

"At least we'd get caught doing what's important," Seamus interrupted firmly. "Maybe that'd remind Macmillan of a thing or two…"

"Will you drop it with Macmillan?" Neville said shortly. "We've got to plan this down to the second, if there are only five of us. I think it should be just me and Seamus, and the girls will—"

"Excuse me!"

"What?"

"Not with my stuff, you don't," Ginny said, just as loudly as Parvati and Lavender.

Neville glared at the three of them. "Ginny, _you_ can't get caught again, and Parvati and Lavender, you two don't have any idea what could happen if _you_ get caught."

"We're not scared," Parvati said fiercely, folding her arms. "And in case you've forgotten, we've _both_ had detentions with the Carrows!"

"It's not a question of being scared," said Neville exasperatedly.

"Neville, you and Seamus have gotten in just as much trouble as I have," Ginny insisted. "There's no reason—"

"Quiet!" Neville shouted. "Now listen. You chose to let me be your leader. So let me make this choice. I don't doubt anybody here, but we all need to agree on a plan, or we're going to fall apart."

Ginny stared at him.

"Now, I'll compromise. Seamus, Ginny, and I are going to go through the castle. Parvati and Lavender are going to arrange our cover," he continued, more calmly. "We're relying on you two in case anything goes wrong, and to help us in and out of Gryffindor Tower."

Parvati nodded once and nudged Lavender, who shrugged, still looking a bit put out.

"Ginny, you're right," Neville said, turning to her, "It's unfair of us to take advantage of your stuff. But you're going to be the first person we get out of the way if there's trouble, because you've already done enough for the rest of us. I'm no leader if I don't protect everyone I can."

Ginny flushed red, but nodded.

"Good," said Neville, clapping his hands. "Let's get planning."


	15. Chapter 15

So if you've read "The Sleepwalkers," you'll recognize a decent chunk of this chapter. However, I've edited it and made some changes that'll hopefully keep it lively and interesting for you! :)

* * *

After that night, the remains of Dumbledore's Army stopped using the Room of Requirement. It was much more convenient to plan in the mostly-empty dormitory that Seamus and Neville shared, which also meant that their meetings could go as late as they wanted without interruption or fear of being caught by the Carrows on a patrol.

Ginny immediately asked Fred and George for the best ways to sneak about the castle, which they obligingly provided, recommending a little-used staircase at the rear of the castle that seemed to be frequented only by the occasional house elf. This staircase would lead them directly to a hidden door in the entrance hall, near the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room.

Hogwarts, meanwhile, was facing the worst combination of sleet and snow that Ginny could ever remember hitting the school. For three solid weeks, Herbology lessons were dreadful and cold, and Care of Magical Creatures was cancelled entirely. This made it incredibly difficult to visit Hagrid, or even see him, for it seemed that the Carrows had banned him from the Great Hall—that, or he simply had no desire to spend a moment more in their presence than was required of him. It did not take long for the students to notice that Hagrid's chair had been removed from the staff table entirely. It was with ill ease that Ginny looked out of the window in Gryffindor Tower every morning so she could be certain that smoke was curling out of his chimney, and know that he was all right.

"Did you have Dark Arts today?" Neville asked, startling Ginny out of a reverie. She had been watching Hagrid, bundled in his furry overcoat, work in his garden through the snowy window of the common room.

"Er—no, why?" she asked.

"Carrow keeps going on about some 'new material' he wants to cover, but he's waiting on the right time," Neville said, looking uneasy. "And Malfoy and the Slytherins seem to know what it is."

Ginny lifted her eyebrows. "That can't be good."

"You know they haven't given out any detentions yet?" he asked.

"Really?" She was surprised. "Why?"

"Seamus reckons they're waiting on the right time," Neville said again. Ginny felt a prickle of unease. "Whatever it is, though, it's scared the daylights out of the younger kids. The waiting is worse than having it happen."

"I don't know about that," said Ginny broodingly, heaving a sigh.

"I think we should go tomorrow night," said Neville.

She stared at him. "You mean to do the entrance hall?"

He nodded. "They're getting worse and worse the longer we wait. I don't know what Carrow's on about, but whatever it is, it's scaring people, and that's exactly what they want. If we let them keep at what they're doing, let them think they've gotten rid of us, then we're just letting them win." Neville furrowed his brow. "They've already scared off half of the D.A. We can't let them think they've got us all."

"We don't know if that's what happened to Ernie and the others," Ginny reasoned, though Neville ignored her. "But if you want to go tomorrow night, you're our leader. You make the call."

He drew a deep breath. "I do," he said.

"Fine," Ginny nodded. Her stomach gave a little twirl of—was it happiness, excitement at the idea of action at last? She glanced up at the head table, where the Carrows sat side by side, glaring around the Great Hall, and she felt a small flicker of anger. "Let's do it."

* * *

"Hey, Ginny, can I have one of those Decoy Detonators?" Neville asked, and Ginny handed him the box, tugging on a black Shield Cloak and tying her long hair into a tight knot.

"I'm telling you, we've got to travel lighter," Seamus said, shaking his head as he lifted his own hood. He had refused the other supplies from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but all three of them would be unrecognizable beneath their hoods.

"I'd agree if we weren't trying to do this without the others, Seamus," Ginny said. "But it's not a choice, not without more people. Take more, now."

Seamus scowled, but shrugged. He reached into the box and withdrew a bag of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. "Happy?" he asked.

"Ecstatic," Neville said sarcastically from where he stood near the window, tying on his hood. "We just need to be careful, Seamus. Now come on, it's nearly eleven."

"Hey," Lavender said, poking her head in the doorway. "The common room just emptied out," she whispered. "And you all need to be more quiet, I could hear you on the stairs," she said, looking at Neville. "All set?"

Neville nodded, looking between Ginny and Seamus. "We stick together, right?"

"We know, Neville," Ginny assured him. Then she smiled, trying to sound confident. "Come on, have a little faith!"

"Hear, hear," Seamus said, and Lavender grinned.

"Parvati and I are all ready to head off anyone who comes looking for you," she said.

Neville nodded. "Okay, okay, everybody back by midnight, though, if we _do_ get separated—"

"Neville," Ginny said, putting a hand on his arm. "We've got it. We went over it plenty of times. Trust us."

"I trust you all fine. It's _them_ I don't trust," Neville said. "But fine. Let's just get going." He led the way down the boys' stairs after Lavender, Ginny and Seamus on his heels.

"Good luck," Parvati whispered as Lavender joined her by the fire, and Ginny, Neville, and Seamus slipped out of the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was sleeping, and did not notice when the five of them hopped out of the common room into the corridor.

Neville took the lead, just as planned, and Ginny took her place on his left, while Seamus took the right. They hurried down the seventh-floor corridor in silence. At one point, Neville stopped, looking confused when they met the end of the corridor, which branched off in two different directions.

"To the left," Ginny whispered, looking around. "It's near the statue of Emeric the Evil, by the Room of Requirement."

Neville nodded and hurried onward, down the left side. Before long, they had passed the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and had still not encountered either of the Carrows, Mr. Filch, or even Mrs. Norris.

"Neville," she whispered suddenly, pointing to a narrow, shadowy opening in the wall at the end of the corridor. "That's it. Fred says it goes straight to the entrance hall."

"Okay," Neville said quietly. "Go on, Ginny."

The boys kept lookout while Ginny lit her wand and peered into the tiny staircase that was wedged within the castle walls themselves. "Okay, it's clear—"

There was a sudden yowl, and Neville leapt backwards, shoving Ginny against the wall.

"It's that bloody cat," Seamus hissed, quickly pushing Neville into the passage and dragging Ginny after him.

She hurried inside, just catching a glimpse of Mrs. Norris's tail as the cat whipped out of sight around the corner, undoubtedly looking for Filch. Ginny didn't wait a moment longer, but followed Neville and Seamus down the steep, spiraling staircase, her heart pounding with fear. There was no light, and they were forced to run in complete blackness.

"Wait," Seamus panted, after several minutes of frantic hurrying through the dark. "Wait, Neville, stop—light your wand, I can't see a thing—"

Neville finally stopped, and Ginny sighed in relief, slumping against the stone wall. She raised her wand and muttered, "Lumos." Her wand tip ignited again, and now she could make out Seamus, who was panting heavily a few steps below her, with Neville, who had just lit his own wand. Ginny sank down on a step, massaging her heart.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and they nodded. "I don't think anyone's following us," she said, looking up behind her. It appeared that the stairs on which they stood were fixed firmly inside a wall—there was scarcely enough space for Ginny to hold her arms out without touching cold, damp stone. At least an inch of dust lay on the step beneath her feet.

"D'you reckon Filch and the Carrows know about this passage after all?" Seamus asked.

Ginny bit her lip. "That stupid cat found us so quickly, I…I don't know," she said. She looked at Seamus, who seemed to be thinking hard.

"Well," he said finally, looking between them all, "Only one way to find out." He smiled slightly. "I'll go first."

Neville squeezed to one side and allowed Seamus to take the lead. They followed him, slowly, this time, down the stairs. Down they went, lower and lower, until Ginny started to feel dizzy. She tried to peer over the iron railing of the stairs to look up, but couldn't see anything, even with wandlight. Was it her imagination, or were they moving on a diagonal, as well as a downward spiral?

"This is mad," she said. "I can't believe I never knew this was here."

"It's sort of a one-use-only type of place, though, isn't it?" Seamus commented. "Makes sense, if it's for elves…"

"Yeah," panted Neville. "We have to figure out if we can use it to get back from the entrance hall, though."

"It'll work, Neville," Seamus insisted.

"We must be nearly there," Ginny said, after what felt like ages of spiraling downward. "We were only on the seventh—ouch!" She walked straight into Neville's back as the stairs abruptly ended.

"Ow, sorry," Seamus said, massaging the back of his head where Neville had walked into it. "I think we found the way out," he said. Ginny raised her lit wand and saw a wall of stone, with no handle or marking of any kind.

"How do we get out?" Neville asked, holding his wand higher to cast more light. "Is it a dead end?"

Seamus grinned and pushed against an enormous stone, directly where a doorknob could have been had there been a door. To Ginny's surprise, slowly but surely, as though it hadn't been disturbed in years, a portion of the wall began to silently swing open. They all quickly extinguished their wandlights and began to creep forward to the threshold of the hidden door. Seamus peeked out first, then looked back and nodded.

"It's safe. No one's here," he whispered.

Ginny grinned at Neville, who didn't return the smile but reached into his pocket for the Indelible Ink bottles, handing one to each of them. Seamus took his and quickly slipped out the hidden door, heading for the stairs he was about to graffiti. Ginny drew her wand and started to tiptoe after Seamus. She pressed herself against the wall outside the door, sliding along it to her destination. She spied Seamus's shadow slinking up one of the enormous staircases as she hurried to the main doors of the castle.

The entrance hall was dead silent. The only sounds Ginny could hear were those of her own breathing and Neville and Seamus's soft footsteps. She looked around; white moonlight was breaking through the storm clouds that had been swirling all week long. It spilled across the floor, the only illumination in the room, draining everything of color.

For a moment, Ginny remembered, with a horrible jolt, the nightmare she had had at Christmas. She saw a flash in her mind of the ruined entrance hall, and of Luna's dead body. Then she mentally shook herself, stepping away from the wall to face the doors.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Neville and Seamus, who were just getting ready to begin their graffiti, and unscrewed the cap on her ink. She was just raising her wand to write an enormous letter D, when Neville yelled. Ginny whirled around, pocketing the ink and drawing her wand in a flash, as all the torches in the entrance hall blazed to life.

"What's goin' on here, eh?" roared Amycus Carrow. He stood at the top of the stairs with Alecto, who had her wand pointed at Seamus. Ginny's heart stopped; Seamus had nothing on him to protect himself, and she was too far away to help—

"All of yeh—you two—get over here!" yelled Alecto, as Amycus aimed his wand directly at Ginny. She swallowed. The Carrows hadn't recognized them yet, so Ginny's mind began working furiously to come up with a new plan. She had a terrible feeling that their only way out of this situation was to the Carrows. She took a slow, careful step forward, catching Neville's eye, and she could see in an instant that he was thinking the same thing.

"Come on, come on, we haven't got all night!" Amycus bellowed, yanking Seamus up by the scruff of his collar.

Slowly, Ginny and Neville arrived at the staircase together and began to climb. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Neville's hand twitch—Ginny raised her wand and yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_"

"Oi!" Amycus yelled as the spell shot past; he fired a Stunning Spell at Ginny, who ducked.

"_Stupefy!" _yelled Neville, and his Stunner went straight at Alecto, but missed her by inches. Amycus released Seamus, sending him tumbling down the stairs where he rolled quickly to his feet, plunging his hand into his pocket.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Ginny screamed again, as Seamus dropped a handful of glittering black rocks—

Darkness engulfed the room, and Ginny began to run back down the marble stairs towards the hidden door in the wall; she couldn't see, but she could hear Neville and Seamus on either side of her. They had nearly made it to the door, and if they could just make it inside, they would get back to Gryffindor Tower safely—they could come up with a lie—

"AARGH!"

Something grabbed at the hem of Ginny's cloak, and she fell hard and so quickly that she couldn't even put her hands out to break her fall. With a nauseating crack, she hit her forehead on the flagstones and tasted blood in her mouth. Her vision went black, for how long she couldn't tell, before she was suddenly aware that she was being dragged to her feet. The Carrows had apparently found their way through the dissipating clouds of Instant Darkness Powder, for Ginny could feel Alecto's breath on her neck, though she couldn't turn her head; she was having enough trouble keeping her eyes free of spots and bursting lights, and was unsurprised to see a trickle of red on the side of her cheek. Her wand lay on the floor.

Amycus yanked Ginny's other arm. "Let's see who's under the hood, eh?" He raised his hand to Ginny's face, and she tried feebly to pull away.

"No!" Neville screamed, but he was drowned out by a roar from Seamus, who charged Carrow and tackled him about the waist.

"_Stupefy_!" Neville cried, and this time, his spell hit Alecto full-force, so that she dropped Ginny to the floor. Neville ran forward and seized Ginny's wand, then picked up Ginny herself.

"Go!" Seamus yelled, wrestling with Amycus. "Run, both of you, I'll be fine!"

"No!" Ginny moaned, reaching out for him, but Neville was stronger, and he was dragging her towards the hidden door.

"Filch is coming, I have to save you!" he said.

"We can't split up, we can't!" Ginny cried, fighting as hard as she could to break Neville's grip.

"We have to!" Neville insisted, as the wheezing figure of Mr. Filch appeared at top of the stairs.

"BOTH OF YOU GO, NOW!" Seamus roared, as he landed a punch into Amycus's doughy stomach; both of their wands lay forgotten on the floor, near Alecto's feebly stirring body.

Ginny looked at Neville, who was trying hard to keep her on her feet, and then back at Amycus and Seamus, who were still fighting, and Mr. Filch, who was now halfway down the stairs—

"Okay," Ginny said at last, and she reached into her pocket and dropped a Decoy Detonator. The resulting explosion was enough to cover them as Neville half-carried her to the staircase. They hurried in and sealed it, but did not yet try to climb the stairs.

Ginny sank to the floor, breathless, and pushed back her hood, wincing as her finger brushed a large, but shallow cut on her forehead. Her head was pounding with pain, but she pressed her ear to the wall, straining to listen for any sound from the entrance hall.

"Lumos," Neville whispered, and his wand lit.

They were both silent for several moments, until Ginny looked up at Neville. "D'you think he got a—"

"ARGGHHHH!"

Seamus's scream was bone chilling, and Ginny nearly leapt out of her skin.

"Move, we've got to move," Neville said loudly, bending down to help Ginny to her feet and dragging her up the staircase. Up they climbed, and the journey seemed so much shorter this time—perhaps it was just because Ginny's mind was moving so quickly, swirling sickeningly with images of what had just happened and the pain of her injury—before long, though, they stood before the narrow doorway at the top of the stairs, panting and heaving. They collapsed onto the top steps, and Ginny buried her face in her hands.

"We shouldn't have separated," she moaned. "We shouldn't have done this—we attacked teachers—this is all wrong…we left Seamus…"

"Seamus and I couldn't have taken on all three of them with you hurt," Neville said, laying a hand on Ginny's shoulder. She shrugged him off. "He's going to be okay, Ginny."

"How do you know?" Ginny demanded, looking up at Neville, and feeling her eyes burn with tears. "You keep saying that about Luna, too, but how do you know? We don't even know where she is, Neville, no one does! She could very well be dead, and you know it!"

"You don't believe that," Neville said quietly, though he looked frightened.

Ginny sighed, exasperated. "What if we just lost Seamus, Neville? They're not going to have any problem with punishing him once they get his hood off, and you know it. Ah—" she had touched her cut and winced.

"He's fine," Neville said firmly. "He's going to be fine. But they're going to come looking for us any minute, and we have to get safe."

Ginny shook her head, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. "This was a mistake, Neville. I—I thought we had it planned…"

"We did have it planned," Neville answered angrily. "Don't back down now, just because it went wrong."

"Maybe McGonagall's right, maybe we need to stop," Ginny stammered, unaware of Neville pulling her to her feet, as Seamus's screams echoed in her ears. "We can't do this…"

"You've got head trauma, you're not making any sense," Neville muttered, heaving her arm over one shoulder. "Shut up for a minute. We can't stay here."

"It'd be easier if we stopped," Ginny rationalized, and now she was beginning to hear the foolishness of her words. "Much easier…"

"I'm going to put a Silencing Charm on you in a minute," Neville hissed. They were halfway down the corridor to the Fat Lady, and he was panting with the effort of trying to hurry her along to safety.

"Much easier," Ginny mumbled. Her head hurt badly…she would like very much to lie down…to pretend as though she hadn't cursed a teacher…to pretend that she was safely back at home, with her mother's cocoa and her father's camera…

But part of her brain still seemed to know that she had a head injury, and that she needed very badly to get help…somehow, getting to Gryffindor Tower and getting back in her right mind were inextricably linked…

"_Tailfeather_," Neville panted at the Fat Lady, who swung open hurriedly.

"In, get in," she hissed, nearly shutting herself on them before they could squeeze through the portrait hole and tumble to the floor in the common room.

"Oh my—what happened?" Parvati demanded, as Ginny pulled back her hood to reveal her cut. "That looks horrible—Lav, the dittany—"

"Put on your pajamas, quick, one of the portraits said that the Carrows are furious about something in the entrance hall, they're looking for you," Lavender was saying to Neville as she handed him his clothing.

"What did you do?" asked Parvati, helping a still slightly disorientated Ginny into her bathrobe and taking the Shield Cloaks and hoods to hide them.

"We got caught," Neville said, buttoning his pajamas in the wrong hole over his sweaty t-shirt as Ginny sank down in an armchair, pulled off her shoes and hid them beneath her seat. Lavender hurried over and began applying essence of dittany to her cut. Ginny winced, her head giving a nasty throb, but allowed her to wipe the blood away.

"Where's Seamus?" Parvati asked, as she stuffed the incriminating clothing into a cupboard by the window.

Neville bit his lip, looking at Ginny. "We had to split up, and the Carrows caught him. Ginny was hurt—"

"He'll be okay," Ginny said softly, meeting Neville's eyes.

There were several beats of silence.

"He charged Carrow, and gave us time to get away," Neville said.

"I'm glad you did," Parvati said at last.

"Seamus will be fine," Lavender said, with an air of great finality. "Give me your wands, both of you," she said, holding out her hand.

"Why?" Neville asked, passing it to her.

"_Aguamenti_," she murmured, and a short fountain of water shot from the tips of the two wands onto the fire, which sizzled and popped. "There. Parvati, give me the Charms book, quick—"

"We came up with a plan when the portraits started talking," Parvati was explaining quickly as she dropped textbooks in each of their laps, along with a few pages of handwritten notes. "The three of us are helping Ginny with a Charms assignment…if they check your wands, you've been practicing Aguamenti."

"If they've caught Seamus, someone's bound to come looking for you both," Lavender agreed. "Ginny, sit up…"

Reluctantly, she pulled herself up in her chair. Her mind seemed much clearer, though her head ached. She opened the Charms book in her lap and took her wand from Lavender, who sat down on the hearth and looked at Parvati and Neville, indicating that they, too, should sit.

"It won't be long," Parvati said, glancing at her watch. "They must've seen it was him by now…they'll be looking for you two…"

Suddenly, at long last, the portrait hole swung open, and Ginny was first to her feet. She ran over, ready to catch Seamus by the shoulders, and was therefore stunned to see not Seamus, but Professor McGonagall, in her nightclothes.

"P-Professor," she stammered. "W-what—"

"Miss Weasley, may I ask what you are doing out of bed at this hour?" Professor McGonagall asked angrily. Then she saw Parvati, Neville, and Lavender, who had all risen as well, and her mouth went very thin and tight.

"We've been studying, Professor," Lavender said calmly. "We didn't realize how late it was."

Professor McGonagall shut her eyes for a moment, and did not respond to the lie. "You are waiting for Mr. Finnigan, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

Ginny didn't say anything. She looked over her shoulder at Lavender, whose eyes were wide, and Neville, who swallowed.

"Where is he, Professor?" Parvati asked softly.

Ginny looked at Professor McGonagall, and was surprised—if she didn't know better, she could have sworn that she saw her chin tremble. "Professor?" Ginny asked quietly.

"He was found by Professor Carrow in the entrance hall, along with two others, who are missing," Professor McGonagall said stiffly. "I have been sen—I am here to ask my students if they know anything about why he may have been down there, and who the others were."

Her eyes raked over Neville's disheveled, incorrectly-buttoned pajamas, and Ginny's bathrobe, thrown hastily over her rolled-up jeans and jumper. "Do the four of you know anything that might…account for Mr. Finnigan's presence in a restricted area after curfew, or who may have been with him?" Professor McGonagall asked. Her voice seemed to falter a bit, and she looked as though she truly didn't want to know the answer.

Again, no one spoke.

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes again and nodded. "Well, I can see that I've woken you in the middle of the night, and that you had nothing to do with this. I'm sorry, I should have known—"

Ginny gaped at her. "P-Professor!"

"Yes, Miss Weasley?" Professor McGonagall looked thoroughly upset.

"I—we…" Ginny stammered, looking helplessly between Neville and the others. If she told the truth, owned up to attacking teachers, then Snape would force McGonagall to tell him, and she and Neville would inevitably be delivered to the Carrows. But if she lied further, she would never, ever be able to alleviate her conscience, knowing she had abandoned Seamus, no matter how angry he would be that they turned themselves in.

Professor McGonagall was staring at her as though pleading her not to say anything. Ginny drew a deep breath.

"Er—Seamus sleepwalks, Professor," said Neville suddenly, cutting Ginny off. "Has for years. Er—one time I woke up and he was pushing me out of my bed. He went to sleep early, tonight, said he—he was tired…but he could've walked out of the tower be—before we all came down to the common room. I…er…don't know why he'd be with anybody else, though…" He looked at the girls for support in what Ginny felt was a rather weak story.

"It's true, Professor," said Lavender immediately. "He's set off the Smoothing Charm on the girls' stairs three or four times at least."

"Uh—oh, yeah, I remember that," Parvati said quickly. "Dean Thomas said he once saw Seamus walk across the common room and head for the portrait hole, too. He would've left Gryffindor Tower if Dean hadn't stopped him."

"See, he could've done it when—when we weren't paying attention," Neville insisted. "He acts like he's awake—"

Ginny shot him a _shut-up-now _look, for she could see the gears turning in Professor McGonagall's mind.

"So, maybe he was sleepwalking, Professor," she said slowly. "We've only been down here a short while, we could easily have missed him. We can all tell the headmaster the truth, if we need to—tonight, if you like."

There was a murmur of assent from the others.

"Is that where Seamus is, Professor? With Professor Snape?" Neville asked.

Professor McGonagall did not answer, but stared at Ginny for a moment, then looked to Lavender, Parvati, and Neville in turn. She seemed to be fighting very hard to restrain herself from speaking her mind. Finally, she released a breath.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley," she said quietly. "I am sure I can speak to the headmaster about Mr. Finnigan's sleepwalking. I do seem to remember dealing with this once or twice before, now that you mention it." She drew herself up and blinked rapidly several times, looking between the four of them, steeling her expression. Ginny smiled slightly. "Now, I suggest you all go to bed while I—I return to the hospital wing to see to Mr. Finnigan."

Ginny's stomach lurched, and in the corner of her eye she saw Lavender clap both hands over her mouth.

"Professor," Parvati gasped, but Professor McGonagall raised both of her hands.

"To bed," she barked, though there was now a distinct quiver in her voice, and she would not look any of them in the eye.

Ginny hurried over to Lavender and Parvati, leading them to the stairs to the girls' dormitories, with Neville right behind them. When they had just started to climb the girls' stairs, however, Lavender stopped, several steps below Ginny and Parvati.

"Lavender?" Parvati asked, for she was staring at the ground, unmoving. Suddenly, she turned and faced Professor McGonagall, who was still standing before the portrait hole. Neville, who was on the boys' stairs, stopped and looked at Lavender.

"He didn't need the hospital wing, Professor," Lavender said, her voice shaking. "Seamus wasn't hurt, the last time we saw him."

Professor McGonagall nodded, looking pained beyond belief. "I know, Miss Brown."

Lavender bit her lip, her tears spilling over, and Parvati placed a hand on her shoulder, glancing at Ginny, who was scarlet in the face and shaking with a sudden, violent anger at the Carrows. She looked to Neville, who was gripping the railing of the boys' staircase so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Can we—" Ginny began, but Professor McGonagall cut her off.

"I have been assured that Mr. Finnigan will be back in classes by tomorrow, Miss Weasley," she promised. "Madam Pomfrey is taking excellent care of him, but I cannot allow any of the four of you to leave Gryffindor Tower after curfew." She met Neville's eyes, "I may not always be able to intervene, but I can and will do my best to _protect _those students who may suffer from afflictions like Mr. Finnigan's." Her sharp, beady eyes met Neville's, Parvati's, Lavender's, and finally, Ginny's.

"Yes, Professor," Ginny said quietly, and the others nodded. Professor McGonagall nodded sharply, and she turned on her heel.

"Good night, Professor," Parvati called suddenly.

Professor McGonagall turned and looked at them again. "Good night," she said softly. "No more sleepwalking?"

There were three mumbled, apologetic, "No, Professors," and Ginny felt a pang in her heart at the sound of their defeated tones.

Professor McGonagall was silent for a moment, glancing at Ginny and the other girls before returning her sharp gaze to Neville. Then the corner of her mouth twitched, only momentarily before it disappeared. She nodded sharply and turned on her heel again, exiting the portrait hole.

Just before it closed, however, her voice floated back through the portrait hole and across the common room.

"What a shame."

Neville and Ginny stared at each other, as Lavender and Parvati gaped, astonished, after Professor McGonagall.

"Someone's looking out for Dumbledore's Army," Neville said, looking pleasantly surprised.

Ginny shook her head as though trying to clear it of water. She couldn't quite believe what she had heard, but… "I think she _joined_ Dumbledore's Army."


	16. Chapter 16

I MISSED YOU! :) Here I am, back from my vacation slash "OhgodIonlyhavefifteenchapter sofmaterialandIjustpostedthe lastone" sabbatical!

* * *

Ginny was preoccupied and exhausted when she missed breakfast and arrived just on time to her double Dark Arts lesson the next morning. Her fingers were closed tightly around the Galleon in her pocket, waiting for Neville's message that Seamus had returned to classes. She chose her usual chair and sat gazing out of the window for nearly a quarter of an hour before she finally perceived a distinct change in the atmosphere of the classroom.

She looked up; all of the other Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were staring at her, and so was Amycus Carrow. Her heart sank a little. She knew she ought to have expected trouble.

"Got yer attention now, eh, Weasley?" he asked. Ginny blinked. "You heard me right. The Cruciatus Curse is pretty important nowadays, and the headmaster reckons it's time you all learned to use it."

Because her brain could not comprehend what she was hearing, Ginny blurted out the first, foolish thing that came to mind. "That's illegal!"

Amycus gave a growl. "Yeh tellin' me how ta run my class, Weasley? Think ya know better?" He was bearing down on her like a massive animal.

Ginny glared back at him, just as fiercely. "No, _sir_," she said coldly.

"I think Weasley here just volunteered herself to go first," he said nastily, facing the class. He looked at Ginny and barked, "Up!"

Her heart gave a sickening lurch. She dragged herself up, legs full of lead, to stand before Amycus at the front of the classroom.

"We're just gonna have a li'l demonstration," he said, smiling evilly. He turned and paced away, giving himself more room, and Ginny shut her eyes. He was about to use the curse on her, she knew it…she steeled herself, clenching every muscle in her body—

_Thud._

Horrified gasps echoed around the room, and Ginny opened her eyes again. Amycus stood directly before Ginny, still grinning, and between them, curled at their feet, lay—

"Seamus," Ginny whispered. Amycus had just pulled him out of the office door that stood adjacent to the classroom. Seamus's hands were bound and he was gagged, his flesh bruised and scraped all over, but he was awake and very, very angry. She could practically feel his hatred for Amycus radiating heat in every direction.

Ginny herself was experiencing a sudden, blinding pain that she could only attribute to the rage pounding in her head. The room seemed to be spinning around her. All she could see was Seamus's eyes, swollen and puffy, staring into her own.

"Take out yer wand, Weasley," Amycus said, in a sickly sweet voice. "Go on, now."

Ginny could only gape at Seamus.

"Do it," Amycus barked.

Seamus stared at her and blinked once, slowly, moving his head as though he were nodding. Ginny shook her head, but he narrowed his eyes. _Just do what he says. _Confused, her fingers shaking with suppressed fury, she obeyed.

"The first thing ye have ta know about the Cruciatus Curse," Amycus said, adopting an alarmingly professorial tone, "is ye gotta enjoy it…" He drew his own wand, meeting Ginny's eyes.

He swept his wand through the air so quickly that she couldn't even react before Seamus was screaming and writhing, choking against his gag—

"STOP IT!" Ginny screamed. "STOP!" She looked out at her classmates, who were all gazing in shock at what had happened, and were obviously too frightened to intervene.

Amycus lifted his wand and gave a menacing chuckle. Seamus lay on the floor, panting and shaking. Ginny shoved her wand in her pocket. "I won't do it," she said angrily. "I won't, and you can't make me."

But for some reason, a look of deep satisfaction was spreading across Amycus's misshapen face. "Fine then, Weasley. C'mon, we're going to the headmaster." He hoisted Seamus up by the scruff of his neck and flicked his wand to release the ties on his hands and mouth. Seamus dropped into a chair, rubbing his wrists.

Amycus barked at the class, "Anyone who moves gets it next!" He seized Ginny's arm and dragged her out into the corridor. "Think yer clever, Weasley? Think yer brave? Ye didn't bank on us catchin' Finnigan there, eh? Didn't think ye'd get caught last night?"

Ginny kept her mouth shut as the gargoyle in front of Snape's office leapt aside. She felt stupid; she should have expected that even the Carrows would be able to figure out who had been with Seamus, and that they would do anything to have the chance to punish her.

Amycus shoved Ginny into the office and grinned gleefully at Snape, who was sitting at his desk, and had not looked up from the parchment he was perusing when they came in.

"Here, headmaster," he said. "I got one of 'em already."

Ginny frowned, deciding to play stupid. The less she pretended to know, the better off she and Neville would be. "One of what?"

"Silence, Miss Weasley," Snape answered in a bored voice, still not lowering the paper. "May I ask what makes you think she had anything to do with Finnigan's activities last night?"

"She was tryin' ta protect him, just now," Amycus grunted. Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes, and he gave her a hard shake.

"Now, Professor," said Professor Snape, looking up at last. "Let the girl speak. You had something to say, Miss Weasley?" His black eyes glittered with malice, and Ginny's heart clenched with fury. He was teasing her, pretending to be on her side, and he wanted to make sure she knew it, to make sure she knew that he was about to pull the rug from beneath her feet, no matter what she did or said…

She drew a slow, deep breath and studied him for a moment. "Only that I don't understand why refusing to torture my classmate is a _bad_ thing."

"I'm afraid the nature of your lessons is not to be dictated by you, Miss Weasley," Snape said silkily. "You are to obey Professor Carrow's orders in his classroom."

"Oh, that's right," Ginny said, a flame of anger leaping up to lick her heart. "You approve of using Unforgivable Curses on teachers, don't you? Guess it was only a matter of time before you moved on to us—"

"Hold your tongue," he snapped, but Ginny could tell she had hit a nerve. She glanced up to the portraits of the headmasters, who were watching this scene with great interest. Dumbledore was in his golden frame, awake, but staring gravely at his own interlocked fingers. Rather than giving her strength of purpose, however, the sight did nothing to assuage her anger—did he not see that everything she was doing, the whole reason that she stood there, in very real trouble, was for him?

"Were you aware that Professor Carrow apprehended Mr. Finnigan in the midst of an attempt to vandalize the entrance hall last night, Miss Weasley?" Snape asked. Ginny lifted her eyebrows, adopting a look of genuine surprise.

"Why, no, sir," she said politely. "Professor McGonagall _did_ mention that he'd managed to leave Gryffindor Tower, but…well, he's sleepwalked for _years_, I would've thought Professor—"

"Finnigan—doesn't—sleepwalk," Professor Snape ground out furiously.

"Oh, no, sir, he does," Ginny assured him earnestly. "It's been a real problem—"

"Leave us, Carrow," Snape interrupted suddenly, his eyes flicking over to Amycus. "I need to have a private conversation with Miss Weasley."

"But—what about—" Amycus whined, but Snape raised a hand, cutting him off.

"I assure you, her transgression in class will be punished with utmost severity," he hissed at Ginny through his crooked teeth. "Now go."

Grumbling and sour, Amycus stumped out of the office, leaving Ginny alone with Snape. She wasn't quite sure whether her previous experience in this office was making her feel braver, or if it was simply the anger beating so furiously in her heart that she was a bit lightheaded, but she decided to speak first.

"What are you going to do, let him teach some of my friends how to torture me?" she asked viciously. "Good plan. Really clever. Lets you out of doing anything too scary, doesn't it?"

Professor Snape was leaning back in his chair, one hand held over his mouth. After a few moments, he lowered it. "I would think, Miss Weasley, that given your current situation, you might not be so utterly stupid as to break my rules a second time. I believe I gave you an idea of what I was willing to do to intervene the last time you were brought into my office."

"Hm," Ginny said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "No, I don't think so…got a pretty good idea of what your friends like to do, but…you know, I think you just _slithered_ right out of doing any of the dirty work yourself…imagine…"

She was goading him, speaking more disrespectfully to a teacher than she would ever dare, but every poisonous word felt like a bit of revenge, for Dumbledore, for Harry, and for Seamus, whom she had abandoned…

"Let's not play games, Weasley," Snape said viciously. "You know precisely what happened in the entrance hall last night, because you were there. Who was with you? Longbottom?"

Ginny set her jaw and looked out of the window, deliberately ignoring him.

"Very well," he continued furiously. "You are to receive two days of detention for disobeying and disrupting Professor Carrow's lesson. He will determine the manner of your punishment—_excuse me?_" he demanded, for Ginny had just coughed slightly. Snape was watching her, his eyes wide. "What did you just say?"

She blinked slowly. "I was just thinking how convenient is must be to be able to avoid doing anything yourself. And cowardly," she added, under the guise of another fake cough.

Snape's face was slowly turning an ugly shade of red, a vein throbbing in his temple. "Get out of this office," he hissed. "Now. And be grateful you aren't worse off, because next time, Weasley, you will not be so fortunate."

"Yes, _sir_," Ginny retorted, turning on her heel.

She was so angry that she barely paid attention to where her feet carried her. She was halfway back to the Dark Arts corridor when she walked straight into Neville, who was having a hushed conversation with Parvati and Lavender.

"Ginny," Parvati gasped. "You—you haven't seen Seamus, have…? Oh, no…"

Ginny grimly told them the story, but when she got to Professor Snape giving her detention, Neville, for some reason, had a look of dawning understanding.

"Carrow just got all of _us_ in Muggle Studies," he explained. "For stupid things—and then she spent that rest of the class talking about the new punishments, to try and scare us. Whatever McGonagall said last night, they didn't believe it. They're using us to set the example."

"It'll be one really good example if we get dropped in front of the Slytherins to get tortured," Lavender whispered, terrified. "Imagine letting Crabbe and Goyle use the Cruciatus Curse on you!"

"Those two don't know which end of the wand is the one where the pretty lights come out," Parvati said derisively. "Malfoy, though…"

"At any rate," Neville cut across, "We know what their new plan for dealing with us is—teaching us how to hurt each other to make us behave. And we know that Seamus is all right."

"Carrow wasn't even interested in him after he got me," Ginny said. "He's probably getting patched up in the hospital wing now. He wasn't seriously hurt at all!"

"That means he's probably going to be demonstrating with the rest of us," Neville said darkly. "McGonagall must not know what's going on—"

"She will, though," Ginny said. "And it'll be bad when she finds out."

"Bad for _them_, you mean," Parvati said. "I'll let that slime Malfoy curse me any day, as long as I get to see McGonagall lose it at somebody other than us."

* * *

"This is unbelievable," Ginny grumbled, dropping onto the bench beside Neville and the other seventh years in the Great Hall, nursing her sore left elbow. "We manage to get out of trouble just long enough for them to come up with a way to make sure we get punished anyway!"

They had all just survived their first day of their new detentions; the Carrows had demanded that each time she had a free period, Ginny should report to Amycus's classroom, where she would receive curse after curse. She had had the misfortune of encountering only Slytherin lessons that day, and though their spells were nowhere near as nasty as the Carrows', she had still left with a distinct headache.

"You all right?" Seamus asked, nodding at her elbow. Once his minor scrapes and bruises from being caught in the entrance hall had been treated, he, too, had been sentenced to play practice dummy for the Carrows' new lessons.

"A bunch of third-years aren't going to do much with the Cruciatus Curse," Ginny said, flexing her arm. "I did it myself on my way out the door."

Seamus gave a snort of laughter, but Ginny smacked his arm.

"When do you have your first go, then?" she asked, and his expression sobered.

"Had it already, in our Dark Arts lesson," he said, nodding to the others. "The one with the Hufflepuffs, and I'll be honest, seeing Macmillan's face was just about the best—"

"You do realize that you're talking about having a _curse_ used on you, don't you?" Lavender snapped suddenly. "It's not a Quidditch injury you're showing off! People die from the Cruciatus Curse, and you're treating it like some big joke!"

Ginny felt a twinge of guilt and looked over at Neville, who was picking at his food. No wonder he was so quiet.

"It's sick, what they're doing," Parvati said, shaking her head. "Teaching us to torture each other, so they don't have to."

"Not that they wouldn't love to," said Seamus sourly. "I can't wait to see Malfoy. I can't wait to make him—"

"Seamus," Parvati said sharply. "Enough."

Ginny was not paying attention. She was frowning over at the Ravenclaw table, where Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, and Padma Patil were having a hushed, worried conversation. She touched Parvati's arm. "What's your sister talking about?"

For some reason, Parvati visibly stiffened, and she stabbed her potatoes rather ferociously with her fork. "I wouldn't know," she said through gritted teeth. "I…er, lost my temper with her. Back when—you know—they all stopped coming to the D.A. meetings."

"You haven't talked to her for a month?" Seamus asked incredulously.

"It's her who won't talk to me!" Parvati burst out angrily. "She wouldn't tell me why they were all—"

"Hello," Neville said under his breath, drawing their attention. "What's going on here?"

They all looked around to see Ernie Macmillan approaching the Gryffindor table, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He stopped directly between Neville and Ginny and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, as though he didn't quite know what to say.

"Something we can help you with, Macmillan?" Seamus asked, a little rudely. Ginny shot him a glare.

"Hi, Ernie," she said kindly. "How are you?"

"Oh—er, fine, grand," Ernie said airily, waving a hand and nearly hitting a passing fourth year in the face. "I—er—well—"

"Say it, Ernie," Neville said. "What's on your mind?"

Ernie glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where Ginny saw Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones watching the scene anxiously. "We—er—that is to say—Hannah and Susan and I—we were wondering if—if there might be another D.A. meeting…anytime soon."

"Carrow finally scared you enough to come back, then?" Seamus demanded. "Worried you'll be the next volunteer?"

"Shut up, Seamus," said Parvati and Lavender at the same time.

Ginny could see the small cluster of Ravenclaws watching Ernie, as well. "We—well, we could probably have one," she said slowly, looking at Neville, who nodded. "It sounds like there may be some things we all need to talk about."

"You're damn—"

"_Seamus_," Parvati snapped.

"Keep your coins on you, then," said Neville. Ernie made a slight face, but it disappeared quickly.

Ginny frowned. "If that's all right with you?"

"Of—of course," he answered. "We'll wait for your message."

"Thanks, Ernie," said Neville, as Ernie turned to leave. He paused, facing Ginny and Neville slowly.

"It's not right, what they're doing to you all. You shouldn't have to take it alone," he said. "And—" He broke off, looking upset, and hurried away.

Ginny released a slow breath. "I think we're about to find out just what happened with all of them."

Though Ginny never once encountered a Cruciatus Curse that was anywhere near as powerful as the Carrows' in her remaining detentions, they did not seem discouraged from their newfound interest in turning the students against one another.

As Neville pointed out, the Carrows obviously had every intention of making the experience worse and worse every time they were punished. This was the appeal, of course, of allowing students to curse each other. Still, as far as Ginny was concerned, less pain meant that she was able to keep her anger and unhappiness in check, which in turn allowed her to avoid getting into further trouble and focus on reuniting Dumbledore's Army.

"We just won't get caught," Seamus said simply.

"Says the one who pitched himself at Carrow and punched him in the face," said Ginny, and Seamus's expression soured.

She also kept the nature of the new detentions from Fred and George, whom she heard from on a regular basis via the enchanted Galleons. They could never pass enough information for Dumbledore's Army to create a newsletter as they used to, but one day in mid-February, Ginny received a message telling her to tune to Potterwatch that Saturday night.

"See, that means they've found a safe place," she said excitedly, showing the coin to Neville. "We should get everyone together and listen!"

"Brilliant," he agreed. "All right. I'll talk to Ernie."

And so it was with great anticipation that Ginny, Neville, Parvati, Lavender, and Seamus left Gryffindor Tower that Saturday night. Lavender went first, alone, to open the Room of Requirement, and the others followed her in pairs, sticking to the shadows and keeping their eyes and ears open for any sign of Filch or the Carrows. They arrived without incident to find Lavender turning the knobs on a wireless radio that now stood on a table in the middle of the D.A. practice room.

"What's the password?" she asked, raising her wand.

"'Gideon,'" said Ginny. "You have to tap—"

At precisely that moment, the door to the Room of Requirement opened, and Ginny looked up. One by one, Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, and Hannah Abbott trailed in, followed momentarily by Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and Padma Patil.

Almost unconsciously, Ginny and Lavender slowly got up and moved to stand with the other Gryffindors. For a moment, nobody spoke, the three groups simply facing each other. It struck Ginny just how small they were, even together; there were precisely twelve people left in Dumbledore's Army.

Neville, Ernie, and Padma each made a sudden movement, preparing to speak.

"So—"

"Listen—"

"Well—"

They froze midsentence, looking awkwardly between each other.

"Neville's leader," Ginny said quietly. "Why don't—"

"That, right there!" Ernie barked suddenly, pointing at Ginny. "Neville's the leader, so he gets to speak! He gets to decide what to tell the rest of us! He gets to dictate what we know and how we know it!"

Ginny stared at him. Everyone had been stunned into silence by this outburst. Even Seamus had nothing to say.

"What?" Neville asked at last.

"I mean," Ernie said angrily, "It was one thing when—when it was just the three of you—you, Neville, and Ginny, and Luna, deciding when to include the rest of us—but then to have to find out—as an _afterthought_—that Luna had been kidnapped—"

"Afterthought?" repeated Ginny incredulously. "We didn't tell anybody—"

"We didn't even know until we came back for the start of term!" Parvati said furiously. "What a stupid thing to get worked up about—"

"Neville and Ginny knew the moment that it happened, apparently!" retorted Padma. "And they hid it from all of us!"

"We weren't hiding anything!" Neville answered. "We didn't know what to do! We wanted to protect everybody, and if we all came back to school knowing that Luna had been taken, it would've drawn some attention! So we thought we ought to wait, have a meeting, and we'd tell you then—"

"But that's not what happened, is it?" Michael Corner demanded. "We all just ended up hearing about it one by one, in bits and pieces—"

"I heard about it over the holiday," Ernie interrupted.

"That is _not_ our fault!" Ginny shouted. "It's not our fault if you heard about it from anyone else, we intended—"

"You _had_ information," Ernie said stoutly. "Important information, and you withheld it until _you personally_ felt it was all right to share."

"And what about you, then, eh?" demanded Seamus. Ernie turned a cold expression on him. "The three of you, having some secret conversation the night Neville tried to talk to you—what d'you know that you're not telling us?"

"Just a bit of collateral damage, that's the way you'd see it!" Ernie replied furiously. "You thought we didn't care enough about Luna to tell us when it happened, right, Neville?"

"It was for your protection," Neville said. "What have you been hiding from us?"

"Why do you think we all need protection?" Padma asked. "It's downright unfair! Luna was in our house, and you didn't even think to warn us that she'd been kidnapped, or probably worse—"

"Don't finish that sentence, Padma," Parvati spat.

"All right, everyone just shut up for a minute!" Ginny shouted. Her voice echoed around the room. She faced Ernie, holding his gaze for nearly a full minute before she finally spoke. "Ernie, you're not stupid, but this is idiotic and you know it. Whatever news you heard about Luna, you know that nobody in this room would keep it from you. From any of you," she added, throwing sharp looks at the other Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. "I didn't want to risk everyone's necks by giving them information they shouldn't have had in the first place. You can be angry at me all you like, because I told Neville to wait until school started again to explain everything."

She faced Ernie again, who now wouldn't look her in the eye. "But this isn't what you're really angry about, is it?" she asked. "You just wanted a reason to be upset."

Now, Susan, Hannah, Padma, and the other Ravenclaws were looking curiously at Ernie, who was plainly uncomfortable.

Ernie sighed. "We—" Hannah elbowed him, annoyed. "_I_ thought you were trying to keep us out of your plans. We're tired of being outsiders."

"So your solution was to put yourselves on the outside?" Parvati asked Padma, who was avoiding her gaze. "We needed you!"

"Stop, Parvati," Neville said quietly. "Their solution was to make us feel how they felt. I'm not saying it was a good idea, but…I get it." He sighed heavily. "And if you all want, I'll stop being the leader—you can pick somebody else—"

"That's not what we want, Neville," Hannah said suddenly. She nudged Ernie's arm. "Is it?"

As though it cost him something, Ernie met Neville's eyes and mumbled, "No, it's not. You're—you should stay in charge, Neville."

"Especially since he's the only one who's shown that he doesn't let his emotions decide what we've all got to do," Hannah said firmly, looking around the room. Everyone avoided her eyes, embarrassed. Ginny felt as though she were being told off in a classroom, and stared down at her feet. Hannah's voice softened. "We never had this problem before. We used to just wait for Harry's signal and hop to, right then."

"Harry's not here," Padma said, and Ginny felt her heart twist.

There was a sudden crackle, and the radio blared to life. Everyone turned around, startled; Lavender was leaning over it, looking sheepish. "Sorry, I just—we were here to listen—I thought—"

"If you're tuning into _Potterwatch_ for the first time, welcome," said a familiar, crackly voice. "It'll be a short broadcast this evening…"

"Is that—?" Ernie began.

"Lee Jordan," said Ginny, unable to stop a smile from spreading across her face.

"This is your host, River, and I'm joined as always by my faithful cohorts and protectors of my secret lair, the Rodents," Lee said. Two more familiar voices made sounds of irritation in the background of the broadcast as Ginny and the rest of Dumbledore's Army burst out laughing.

"Rodents?" Michael asked.

"It's Fred and George, you prat! Now, _shh_," said Anthony, stepping forward and turning the volume up.

"You'll be hearing special reports from them in a later broadcast. Tonight, we've got an extra-special appearance from new correspondent Rhea. Welcome to the program, Rhea."

"Tonks," Ginny said happily, clapping her hands over her mouth. She knew immediately; this was what Fred and George had wanted her to hear. Not only was their family alive and well, but so were Remus and Tonks.

"Thanks, River, glad to be here," she said.

"We brought you on because we've heard you've some experience in liaising with our good friends out there, am I right?" Lee asked.

"I've had a few encounters with some of the Chief Death Eater's favorites, you're correct," Tonks answered.

"And come out none the worse for wear, I can tell you, listeners," said Lee, and Tonks snorted.

"But what I'm really here to do tonight is take the job of your regular reporter, Romulus, and his 'Pals of Potter' segment," she said.

"And a wonderful segment it is, a shame Romulus couldn't be with us this evening, but he _will_ be back next time, folks," Lee interjected quickly.

Tonks laughed. "I only want to remind everyone listening that they've still got a reason to hope. Harry Potter is alive. He's out there, and maybe, with a little bit of luck, he can hear us right now. And if you listeners can hear us, then that means you're on his side as well."

"And what do you have to say to those who stand with Harry?" asked Lee.

"I say protect each other and yourselves," Tonks answered. "Don't start fights you can't finish, but if you have to, then finish on top. If you put yourself in danger, make sure you know it's because you've done what's right, not what's heroic. If there's one thing we've all learned lately, it's that our own desires matter far less that what we're trying to do together."

Ginny glanced at Neville, who was staring intently at the radio, and at the rest of the D.A., who were gathered around the table, unconsciously drawing closer to the voice that was speaking to them, reaching through the castle walls to find and reassure them.

Tonks was still speaking. "But that being said, I also have it on good authority that there are some people listening tonight who need to be reminded that they're not alone, and that they have our full support, no matter what. We'll be there for them when the time comes, and until then, we all believe in them to stick it out."

"Well said, Rhea," Lee agreed. "We thank you for your appearance…"

Ginny reached forward and turned the volume down just slightly. She faced the others, who were all crowded around the radio with the strangest looks on their faces. Hannah's chin was quivering, and Parvati and Padma were both crying as they embraced. Neville and several others looked as though they didn't quite know what they had heard, or at least how they ought to respond to it.

As though a spell was being lifted, one by one, everyone seemed to startle back to reality and notice that they were standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder around the little table.

"…That's it for tonight, everyone. Keep listening. It may be several weeks until our next broadcast, but the password is going to be 'Phoenix.' Keep faith. Good night."

With a last crackle, Lee's voice faded into silence.

Ernie was staring down at his feet. "I was…"

"An idiot?" Hannah suggested, sniffling, and every one laughed. Ernie even chuckled, raising his head.

"I'm sorry, Neville," he said, extending one hand. "Really. I haven't given up, even if I've acted like it."

Slowly, Neville shook his hand. "It's all right." He glanced around at Ginny, Parvati, Lavender, and Seamus, who was unusually quiet. "We're glad to have you back."

"It's well past curfew," said Susan Bones, looking at her wristwatch.

"Who's up for some dueling practice?" Neville asked. There was a general laugh and murmur of approval. "All right! Divide into pairs," he called. "Disarming and Stunning at first, and work on your Shield Charms!"

As he moved away from her, barking orders and watching everyone jump to obey them, Ginny couldn't help but suppress a grin.


	17. Chapter 17

"…John, Lillian, Katie, and Michael Horner, a Muggle family living near Godric's Hollow…that's it for today, folks. That list was a bit shorter, but we'd like to stress again the importance of keeping an eye not only on your own families, but taking a moment to ensure the safety of your friends and neighbors, magical or otherwise," said Lee. "We'd also like to confirm sightings of werewolf Fenrir Greyback, previously thought to have been operating only as a Snatcher for the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. Greyback has been seen with other confirmed werewolves staging attacks against Muggle and wizarding families alike…"

Lavender gave a shudder as she approached Ginny, who was scribbling down Lee's every word. "That werewolf is disgusting. Murdering children…"

Ginny shook her head. "Don't think about it. He'll get what's coming to him."

"Yeah, and I wouldn't have a problem giving it to him," Lavender answered viciously.

"How's it going?" Neville asked, breaking away from the other members of the D.A., who were gathered around a spellbook, trying to learn a new jinx.

"Fine, the broadcast is nearly over. Lee's started talking to Kingsley again about ways to protect yourself, no more news," Ginny replied, turning the volume down just a bit. She was feeling in an especially good mood, as she had had the chance to hear both Bill and Charlie over the wireless tonight, as well as Remus. "Listen, I wanted to ask you…how do you want to give these flyers out?"

"Er," Neville said, "The usual way, I suppose. Why?"

Ginny bit her lip. "I was thinking…maybe we've been going about this all wrong."

"What d'you mean?" asked Lavender.

"Well, the Carrows know that as soon as Filch or Mrs. Norris spots anything out of the ordinary, they'll be able to track us down to one room," Ginny explained. "The Great Hall, the staircase, something like that, right?"

"Okay," said Neville slowly.

"And now," she continued, "They think they've narrowed us down to just the five of us." She gestured from herself to Neville and Lavender, and then over to where Seamus and Parvati were practicing nonverbal Impediment Jinxes. "What if we scatter throughout the entire castle? Forget about trying to target one big place and get as many small places as we can?"

"The Charms corridor…near the common rooms," Lavender said slowly, nodding. "I kind of like it."

"We'd go in pairs," Ginny said quickly, for she had seen uncertainty in Neville's expression. "We can write on the walls, and we could drop as many flyers as we want."

"And if we're caught, and the Carrows drop us in Dark Arts to get tortured?" Neville asked.

"That's no longer a reason to hesitate," Ginny insisted. "Everyone here is tired of being left behind, or feeling forgotten." Neville said nothing for a moment. "Ask them. Ask them if they'll be willing to risk it. If anyone says no…I'll drop it, but…well, you know which way I vote."

"And me," Lavender said immediately.

Neville sighed and turned away, facing the others. "Hey, you lot!" he called. People fell silent mid-jinx and a few Disarmed wands clattered to the floor as they stopped what they were doing and looked round. "Listen for a minute. We've got something interesting to discuss with you."

He nodded at Ginny, who was taken aback.

"Er…okay," she said, standing. It took little more than a minute to explain her idea, and when she had, she was met with nine concerned expressions. "Really—if anyone—you know—isn't willing to wind up in detention for all of us, we'll find another way."

"Now who said anything about that?" Ernie demanded. Hannah threw him a sharp look and dug an elbow into his ribs. "Ouch—er, I meant…I was just thinking…and I don't know if anyone else thought this…but it sounds like you want to really start an all-out confrontation. Am I right about that?"

Ginny bit her lip. "Well, I'm not saying we ought to start dueling in the middle of Muggle Studies, but…in a manner of speaking, yes. I think we ought to step up our resistance. If the Carrows want to torture us, or have our friends do it, fine, but they had better be prepared for a hell of a lot of trouble, because—because they don't scare me. And I don't think they scare the rest of you, either."

Ten pairs of eyes swiveled over to Neville, who was staring at Ginny, his expression unfathomable. "I think," he said slowly, "it's high time we started paying the Carrows back with a bit of their own medicine."

"Just to be clear, we're talking about sneaking out a lot?" Susan asked.

"Well…er, every night, if we want," said Ginny.

Neville nodded his agreement. "As much as it takes, I'd say." He looked at the others. "Who's ready to really make Snape's life hell?" Grins were flashing around the room, and Ginny couldn't stop herself from beaming at Neville. "Right, then!" he said enthusiastically, clapping his hands. "Let's—"

"—This just in, we have a first on the Potterwatch program, listeners, we have a breaking news bulletin." Lee's voice burst suddenly through the air, and Ginny hurried to turn the volume up, her heart racing. Something irrationally hopeful that had sprung suddenly to life in the bottom of her heart told her that perhaps tonight she would hear some word of Harry, Ron, or Hermione—

"Following a report received only moments ago by two of our correspondents, we regret deeply to inform you all of the deaths of—of Frank and—Roxanne Johnson, and of Henry and Mei Chang…"

The pit of Ginny's stomach seemed to fall away. "Johnson?" she whispered, as at the same time, for reasons best known to himself, Terry Boot gasped, "_Cho_."

"We can confirm with—with absolute certainty," Lee pressed on, though he sounded as though something was caught in his throat, "That the Johnsons' daughter, a recent graduate of Hogwarts, is alive, and—and we are awaiting confirmation—of the same—regarding the Changs' daughter. The Johnsons' remains were found hidden in their—their home after weeks of search—oh, bloody _hell_—" There was a clunk on the other side of the wireless, and the distinct sounds of Lee walking away from the table.

A slow, deep, reassuring voice came over the radio almost instantly. "Listeners, please allow us a moment to resolve an issue with the broadcast," said Kingsley.

In the beats of crackling silence that followed, Ginny felt her knees give way, and she sank none too gracefully to sit on the floor. She didn't know why she had thought for a moment that it would be good news, even if it had been about Harry. She was so lost in thought, numb with shock, that she almost didn't hear Neville's words.

"Get in contact with Cho, I don't care how you do it, just don't let the letter get intercepted. And I want someone to have word from Angelina by tomorrow!" he was ordering, his jaw set. "They may not be here with us, but they're still on our side!"

Ginny gaped at him. In one, infinitesimal moment, he had ceased to be Neville. He had ceased to be the boy who had shyly, fumblingly asked her to the Yule Ball. He had ceased to be the boy who had pocketed his mother's gift of a bubblegum wrapper. He had ceased to be the boy who had tried to kiss her. He was someone else entirely.

"Seamus, you're on the best terms with Katie Bell, so you're in charge of collecting all information on Angelina. Just in case anyone else hears from her, tell Seamus straight away!" he said. "Terry, the same for Cho. Find her, find out where she is and what she might need." He faced Ginny. "We should get the twins to check on anyone else they can find, too. We've been ignoring them all for months," he said furiously. "But we're going to need them, and they need to know we're here when they need us. I feel so stupid, we should've—we should've paid more attention—"

"Neville," Ginny laughed weakly, placing her hands on his shoulders. "It's okay."

He took a deep breath and nodded once. Then he turned and faced the others. "We're going out tomorrow night, you lot. Ready?"

"Beyond ready," said Hannah immediately.

"Partners from different houses?" asked Michael Corner.

Neville nodded. "All right. Meet here tomorrow night an hour after curfew."

* * *

"Drop them everywhere, but only after you finish the graffiti," said Neville, as Ginny passed out stacks of flyers to Hannah and Michael. "If you run into another pair, you're too close together, and need to go somewhere else."

"Seven floors in the castle, if we avoid the Great Hall, and only six pairs of us," Ginny advised. "Meet back here when you're done." She moved to stand with Susan Bones, whom she would partner, and raised her hood, so that her face, too, was hidden from sight. "Who's got the first floor?"

"That's us, Hannah," said Neville. She stepped forward eagerly. "We'll see you all back here in one hour."

Hannah and Neville left first, followed by Michael and Lavender, Padma and Ernie, Terry and Parvati, and Seamus and Anthony, until Susan and Ginny finally crept out into the corridor. At every blank wall they met, they stopped to drop flyers and write some variation of DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY: STILL RECRUITING upon the stone.

Ginny could see the subjects of the paintings flitting back and forth along the walls to watch them, but not one sounded an alarm; it was reassuring.

They had only a quarter of an hour left, with no sign that anyone else had been caught or spotted, when Susan pointed out that they had gone in a full circle, and were back in the corridor of the Room of Requirement.

She glanced down at her watch, and then back up at Ginny, grinning mischievously. "There's one place we didn't go, though." Ginny frowned. "Shall we get Snape's office?" Susan whispered.

"Oh, definitely," Ginny answered with relish. She allowed Susan to lead the way around the corner to the south side of the castle, down the corridor where the gargoyle that hid Snape's office stood

"Brilliant," Susan whispered, gesturing to the vast expanse of blank stone that faced the statue. She drew her wand and produced a bottle of Indelible Ink from within her pocket.

"Wait," said Ginny, catching her arm. "Stop a minute." She drew her own wand and took the ink, facing the wall.

"Dumbledore's Army?" Susan asked under her breath, glancing up and down the corridor.

Ginny shook her head, but didn't elaborate. Her drawing skills were not good, nothing like Luna's or even Charlie's, but she could, perhaps, manage this…

"Whoa," said Susan appreciatively when Ginny stepped back a few minutes later.

"That ought to frighten Snape every time he wants to go out, don't you think?" she asked.

"A _phoenix_," Susan whispered, in the same tone of reverence. She reached forward and lightly touched the already dry ink that made the enormous firebird Ginny had inscribed on the wall. "It's brilliant." She reached into her pocket and withdrew the last of the flyers she carried. "I just had an idea—my aunt told me once that Gringotts protects their vaults with Gemino Charms—"

"Everything multiplies when it's touched," Ginny agreed.

"Let's put one on these," Susan said eagerly, waving the stack of parchment. "The Carrows know it's us by now, and all it'll do is make it really difficult to get rid of."

"I like it," said Ginny. "Do it. I'll keep watch."

Susan nodded and set to work, while Ginny hurried down the corridor. She had made it about ten feet when she heard an echoing bellow of anger, coming from the staircase that stood only yards away. Not pausing for even a moment, she bolted towards Susan. "Drop them, now!" she hissed, and Susan flung a few pieces of parchment to the ground. They took off down the corridor and rounded the corner as fast as they could.

"Here, here," Ginny dragged Susan by the arm into a broom cupboard, and they both pressed their ears to the door, straining to listen for any noise.

Sure enough, within moments, two sets of running footsteps passed the cupboard, followed by more footfalls and angry voices.

"I saw 'em run that way!" Amycus barked. "C'mon—"

"Nah, it was down 'ere," said Alecto. "You go one way, and we'll trap 'em round the corner."

As their footsteps faded away, Ginny and Susan breathed simultaneous sighs of relief; whoever was being chased would make it back to the Room of Requirement long before the Carrows found them.

Slowly, Ginny nodded to Susan. "Put out your wand and open the door. We can still get more on this floor—"

Susan shrieked suddenly, and the cupboard door banged open. Amycus Carrow stood before them, his wand drawn. He lunged forward, reaching for Ginny—

"_Impedimenta!_" Susan yelled, and the jinx caught Amycus straight on and he staggered backward, toppling over with a crash. "Come on!" Susan yelled to Ginny, but before they could make it more than a few feet, Alecto stepped out of the shadows.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Ginny shrieked. Alecto gave a furious cry and leapt after her wand.

"Oi, you little—"

Amycus's Impediment Jinx had worn off, and he was getting awkwardly to his feet. Susan and Ginny turned to run again, but with a flourish of his wand, Amycus hit them both with an Impediment Jinx of his own. Ginny hit the floor hard and heard Susan grunt in pain as she landed sharply on her right wrist.

"_Stupefy!_" Ginny cried, scrambling to her feet, but in one instant, her spell fired off course—someone had closed their arms around her windpipe, and she could not breathe.

"That's enough outta you," Alecto snarled in her ear. "Get the other one!" she barked at Amycus, who seized Susan, forcing her wand from her hand. "Now, let's see…Weasley, I'm betting," Alecto cackled nastily in Ginny's ear, reaching for her hood, her stranglehold on Ginny's neck growing tighter.

Ginny tried to struggle away, but lights were popping before her eyes because she could draw no breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Susan was still feebly struggling against Amycus, but it was no use—

"Hey!"

Ginny's heart leapt. At the end of the corridor stood not one, or two, but eight hooded figures, all with wands raised. She felt Alecto's grip slacken.

"More of us now, aren't there?" shouted Seamus.

"_Stupefy!_" Amycus roared, dropping Susan at Ginny's feet and bounding forward. The jet of light missed the person he had aimed for, and Seamus gave a yell; as one, they charged forward, firing jinxes and curses. Someone hit Alecto in the face with a Stunning Spell, and Ginny dropped to the floor, reaching out immediately for her wand and Susan's.

"Up, get up—can you move?" she asked Susan, who was rubbing her wrist where she lay on the floor.

"I'm fine," she murmured. "I'm fine, it's just my arm—" Ginny dragged her up, and Susan snatched her wand back. "Let's go!"

"Come on, you two," Seamus called, firing a second Stunner at Amycus, who collapsed mid-jinx. "Back to the Room—"

Ginny and Susan didn't need telling twice. Following Seamus and the other seven who had taken off around the corner, they ran all the way through the corridors, back to the Room of Requirement—

"Look out!"

"Ouch!"

Susan had dodged the oncoming obstacle, but Ginny slammed into something hard and fell backward onto the floor, smacking her head. Bright lights popped in her vision again, and she could see nothing, but another pair of hands was dragging her up—different from Alecto's—smaller—

As her vision swam back into focus, Ginny realized that she had lost her hood, and that she was staring up at Professor McGonagall, dressed in her nightclothes. She was struck by the extremely odd and poorly timed realization that Professor McGonagall was quite impressively tall, and she, Ginny, was very, very small.

"Er—" Ginny stammered, trying to break free of her grasp. Professor McGonagall was staring at her as though she couldn't comprehend what she was seeing. Then—

"They went this way!"

Amycus and Alecto had obviously woken up, and they were heading for the corridor where Ginny now stood. She looked at Professor McGonagall, pleading in her eyes.

At the sound of Alecto's yell, McGonagall released Ginny and bent swiftly, scooping up the dropped hood and wand, and shoved them both into Ginny's hands.

"Go, now," she snarled, and without another word, she ran down the corridor to head off the Carrows.

It was only the desire to obey that allowed Ginny to move forward through her shock, and less than a minute later, she fell, gasping, into the Room of Requirement.

"What happened to you?" Neville asked immediately, hurrying over to her where she lay, flat on her back. "Are you hurt?"

"Tell you in a minute," she said. She hoisted herself up on her elbows and gazed around.

She could see Hannah tending to Susan's arm, and the panting, heaving bodies of their rescuers; Parvati, Padma, Seamus, Michael, Lavender, Ernie, Terry, and Anthony were all seated on the floor and sprawled across cushions.

"All right there, Weasley?" Terry asked breathlessly.

"Can't complain," she said, giving a salute. She caught Susan's eye and beamed.

"That was pretty cool, wasn't it?" asked Padma. Parvati gave a giggle and tackled her in a hug, as everyone burst into hysterical laughter.

* * *

The next morning was far and away the happiest Ginny had felt in over a year. Not only was the entire school amazed and thrilled to find new flyers (many of which had survived the night, perhaps simply because of sheer number) and immovable graffiti from Dumbledore's Army, somehow, the story that a band of students had attacked the Carrows had reached every ear in the school by lunchtime.

If the Carrows had been a bit cleverer, Ginny thought, they could have easily figured out who belonged to Dumbledore's Army. They were those students who received looks of admiration from their classmates (who, it seemed, could riddle out the members of the Army fairly easily), and those who walked around with the biggest grins on their faces all day long.

"Did you hear the bit about us using the Imperius Curse on them to make them tap dance?" Seamus chuckled as he sat down beside Neville at the Gryffindor table.

"No," Lavender said, as Neville snorted into his stew. "And that's horrible! That curse is illegal, and if we used it, we'd be no better than they are!"

"Calm down, there," Seamus answered defensively.

"Yeah, Lavender. Tell me you wouldn't want to see that old cow practicing her high kicks," Ginny added, nodding up to the staff table, where Alecto Carrow was sporting a slightly swollen left eye and a scowl. "What's up with you, Parvati?"

Parvati looked around, as though startled out of a reverie. "I was just—where's Professor McGonagall?" she asked quietly, glancing at the staff table. "She wasn't at breakfast, either. Have you had Transfiguration this morning, Ginny?"

"No," Ginny said slowly. "I've got it after lunch…"

"Blimey, wait a moment," Neville said, a look of horror dawning on his face. "You don't think—?"

"Like with Umbridge," said Lavender, paling. "What if she was trying to protect us, and—?"

"Come off it," Seamus said, though even he sounded unsure. "That—no."

But half an hour later, Ginny's mood had swung like a pendulum from giddy shock and happiness to heart-pounding anxiety. She filed silently into the Transfiguration classroom behind Vicky Frobisher and sat down, alone, near the back of the room.

She looked down at her watch. There were still five minutes before the lesson was meant to start. There was no reason to worry about Professor McGonagall yet.

But the next three hundred seconds felt like the longest of Ginny's life. She couldn't keep still, but tapped her fingers nervously on the tabletop, annoying several of the Hufflepuffs seated near her. She ignored them.

Then, the classroom door opened, and Ginny's heart leapt into her throat. Professor McGonagall entered, setting a stack of books on the desk and moving to stand behind it.

"We're going to start review for exams, which begin really in a matter of weeks. This is your first year in a N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration class, and it is only fair to warn you that the exams are nothing like those you sat in O.W.L. classes," she said sternly, her brow furrowed. She raised her wand and tapped the chalkboard. A list of spells for practicing appeared. "Mr. Willson, come and take this box—pass out a mouse to each student. I expect you all to use only nonverbal spells on this exam, unless otherwise stated. Begin your practice now until you have mastered each spell silently. I will be checking your work."

The class leapt into action, for usually Professor McGonagall's promise to check their work meant a great deal of intense, slightly embarrassing scrutiny when they were caught chatting or whispering the spells out of the corners of their mouths.

Therefore Ginny already had her mouse and was preparing to work when she finally noticed something odd. Professor McGonagall was sitting down at her desk, a rare occurrence in itself during a lesson, but more importantly, she was moving with great delicacy, as though she were in pain.

A familiar rushing sound was filling Ginny's ears, and as though a film were rolling inside her head, she could see her encounter with McGonagall in the corridor the night before…she could see Professor McGonagall telling her to run, and then dashing off to stall the Carrows from reaching Dumbledore's Army…

"Miss Weasley, did you need something?" Professor McGonagall asked, arching an eyebrow.

"N-no, Professor," Ginny answered, returning her attention to her mouse, although she could feel McGonagall's eyes on her for several minutes after.

The class carried on as normal; it seemed that everyone was growing more and more proficient with nonverbal spells, for by the end of the lesson, more than half of the class had worked through half of Professor McGonagall's practice list.

"You're dismissed," said Professor McGonagall, when the bell rang. She still had not gotten up. "You've my permission to escort _yourselves_ to your Charms class, though I do ask you do so quickly and quietly, without attracting attention. Am I clear?" she asked sharply.

There was a murmur of agreement, and a flurry of movement to collect bags and books. Ginny seized her opportunity and darted between the tables, up to McGonagall's desk. "Er—Professor," she said. "Can I—erm—"

"What is it, Miss Weasley?" asked Professor McGonagall. Ginny stared at her. She looked dreadfully tired, and still held herself as though she was in pain.

"I…I…"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Your classmates are leaving," she said, gesturing to the classroom door, through which the last pair of Ravenclaw girls had just disappeared.

But Ginny was so overwhelmed by emotion, she couldn't speak. There was gratitude, certainly, that Professor McGonagall had not been banished from the school, but mostly, she could feel only anger and guilt. "I—I'm really sorry," she managed at last. "Thank you—"

She faltered under Professor McGonagall's steely gaze.

Quite suddenly, she reached for Ginny's wrist and held it tightly. "Listen to me carefully, Miss Weasley, because I shall tell you this only once. Better I than you. Than any of you," she said fiercely. "That includes doing everything I can to stay precisely where I am, so you may rest assured that I am perfectly well. Now go to class."

She released Ginny, who turned to leave immediately. As she was on the threshold, however, Professor McGonagall called out, "And I'd like to see an improvement on that phoenix, next time."

Ginny repressed a grin, feeling a tiny bit of the guilty weight in her stomach lift.

"You saw McGonagall?" Neville asked immediately when she sat down beside him at dinner that evening.

"Yeah," answered Ginny. "She's fine." She glanced up to where he pointed, at the staff table, where Professor McGonagall was deep in conversation with Professor Sprout. "No need to worry."


	18. Chapter 18

In the first week of March, the alternating biting cold, blinding snow, and pouring rain let up just enough to allow Ginny to leave the castle and visit Hagrid (outside of a Care of Magical Creatures lesson) for the first time all of term.

It wasn't until she received his rib-crushing hug that she realized just how much she had missed him.

"How are you, Hagrid?" she laughed, as Fang nearly knocked her over trying to lick her face. "I'm sorry it's been so long—"

"Nah, don' you worry 'bout it," he assured her, setting the kettle on the fire. "I bin jus' fine, yeh don' need ter bother yerself abou' me."

"Hagrid," she chided him, and he winked at her. "We all really miss you up at the castle."

Hagrid's expression clouded. "Yeh know I'd be there with yeh if I could," he said, and Ginny nodded. "Them Carrows've been doin' everythin' they can ter keep me out here, though, an' I'm none too keen ter spend time roun'—roun' some o' the folks up there, anyhow." He dropped a plate of rock cakes on the table with unnecessary force, and Ginny could tell that he meant Snape.

"Well, how's Grawp?" she asked, changing the subject brightly.

"Ah, he's brillian', really enjoyin' himself now he knows the fores' so well," Hagrid answered, placing a mug of tea before Ginny and settling into his armchair. "Yeh should see if yeh can come with me one afternoon ter say hello! He'd really like yeh, yeh know." He took a swig of his own tea. "Though, the way I heard it, yeh don' need any help goin' out o' bounds."

Ginny flushed scarlet. Dumbledore's Army was, to put it simply, wreaking havoc on the castle nearly every single evening. Wherever graffiti was just starting to fade, it would immediately be replaced. Accurate news and information swirled around the corridors and common rooms thanks to Ginny's flyers, and best of all, the Carrows could never corner one member of the D.A. without running into many, many more than they could handle.

Professor Snape was furious, and had stopped coming to meals altogether, while Alecto and Amycus Carrow were increasing their rabid desire to teach the Cruciatus Curse. Their tempers were short, and it was unwise to antagonize them, as it usually meant that you would be their next victim for a Dark Arts lesson. Unfortunately for them, however, they were running very low on people to supply the habit.

"Professor McGonagall's bin keepin' me up ter date," Hagrid said, tipping her another wink. "An' I mighta let that slip ter Remus not long ago."

"You did?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Ah, don' worry," Hagrid assured her with a heavy pat on the back. "Firs' thing he said was, 'better not tell Molly, eh?'" He chuckled merrily.

"How is he?" Ginny asked longingly. "I haven't had a letter from Mum or Dad in weeks, Bill's mostly been writing for all of my family. How's Tonks?"

Hagrid smiled. "I reckon they're doin' all righ'," he said. "Remus said Tonks is jus' great. Never woulda picked him ter settle down an'—well, he deserves it, an' more."

"Agreed," Ginny said, sipping her tea. Suddenly, something sitting in the corner caught her eye. "Hagrid, what's that?"

He looked around, and his face turned red. "Er—nothin'. Yeh wan' some more tea?"

But Ginny had already gotten up and marched over to the object that was half-concealed under a blanket. She yanked the cover away and saw a rucksack that was positively enormous, even for Hagrid. She faced him, confused. "Were you planning on going somewhere?" she asked.

Hagrid looked immensely uncomfortable. "Well—er—yeah," he said at last, and Ginny made a noise of shock.

"You're leaving?" she demanded. "You're just going to leave the school?"

"Now, hold on," Hagrid said quickly. "Lemme explain!" Ginny folded her arms tightly, glaring at him. "These Carrows've been forcin' me out fer months," he said. "Little things at firs', an' now with all yer doin' up at the castle, they're lookin' fer somethin' ter do, ter get what he wants."

"What You-Know-Who wants?" asked Ginny.

"Hogwarts," Hagrid answered. "He wants Hogwarts, an' if a bunch o' kids are makin' it look like them Carrows can' do their job, then they gotta fin' someone else ter get, ter make it look like they're still in charge. I ain't sayin' yeh oughtta quit," he cut Ginny off, waving an enormous hand. "I'm sayin', they had it in fer me since day one, an' I'll be a hippogriff before they get me the way that ol' toad did."

"But Hagrid, if you think it's our fault you'll have to leave—" Ginny began.

"Now yeh listen ter me, Ginny," he said sharply, looking extremely fierce. "I don' wan' yeh to stop _anythin'_ o' what yer doin' on my account. I'm jus' keepin' my eyes open fer trouble. An' if I gotta, I'll make it meself."

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked.

"I'll give meself a way out, before they can get ter me," Hagrid said simply. "I'll do somethin' that'll really get 'em angry…"

Ginny stood suddenly and threw her arms around his neck as best she could. "Don't go without saying goodbye," she said, hugging him, and he patted her hand gently.

"None o' this is forever," he promised. "Yeh'll see. One o' these days, Harry's goin' ter come marchin' straight inter the castle, an' it'll all be righ' again."

Ginny sighed sadly, still hugging Hagrid's neck.

The days slipped into weeks. All of Ginny's time was divided between classes, which were becoming increasingly rigorous as the Easter holidays drew nearer, and D.A. meetings, which happened on almost a nightly basis with overwhelming success. Dumbledore's Army broke curfew at least twice every week to drop newsletters and graffiti new areas of the school, to the fury of both Carrows, who never were able to capture anyone thanks to Fred and George's Shield Garments.

It got to the point where Ginny and Neville were each so focused on Dumbledore's Army when they weren't trying to keep up with their various levels of homework that one day, they were startled to look up from dueling practice and discover that neither of them had eaten anything in more than twenty-four hours.

"You're going to kill yourselves," Parvati said at dinner one night, shaking her head as she watched them both wolf down chicken legs and rolls at alarming speed.

"Not before Carrow gets a chance," Ginny and Neville mumbled together through full mouths. It was a sign of how truly well the D.A.'s efforts were going that they could joke in such a manner; to Ginny, it felt almost normal.

Seamus and Lavender, who sat opposite them, laughed aloud, and Parvati smiled.

"You know," Lavender said, "We should talk about whether we ought to plan anything for the Easter—"

"Ye little slime, ye did it on purpose!"

All heads in the Great Hall turned to look down the Gryffindor table, where Alecto Carrow stood with her face coated in what looked like black pudding. She glared down at a student Ginny couldn't see.

"N-no, Professor, honestly, I didn't mean to!" the girl squeaked, and Ginny's heart skipped a beat. It was—

"Evelyn," Parvati whispered. "Oh, no—"

"That's a week's detention, ye nasty little—"

"Leave her alone!" snapped another familiar voice. Josephine O'Brien sat—no, _stood_—Merlin, she was small, thought Ginny—directly beside Evelyn Alistair, and was glaring fiercely up at Alecto. "It was an accident!"

Ginny looked around desperately—there were almost no teachers still eating dinner this late, and Professor McGonagall was nowhere in sight.

"We're not scared of you!" Josephine was saying loudly, looking to her fellow first years for support. And then, to Ginny's shock and horror, mixed with a twisted desire to laugh, Josephine raised one fist in the air. "Dumbledore's Army! Dumbledore's Army!"

"Oh, my God," Lavender whispered, clapping her hands over her mouth. "We have to—"

But the chant was being taken up by all of the Gryffindor first years, and then by more students, all across the Great Hall. Cutlery was banged against the table and people stood on their seats as the chant grew louder and louder.

Alecto Carrow was glowing scarlet beneath the spatter of pudding on her face. Ginny looked around at Neville and the others, but even Seamus was lost for words.

"SILENCE!"

Like a charm, quiet fell immediately over the Great Hall, as a few stray spoons clattered to the floor. Professor Snape stood on the threshold of the hall, his uneven teeth bared as a vein throbbed unpleasantly in his temple. In a fluid movement, he flew up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to where Alecto stood. He had a brief, but hushed conversation with her, during which their eyes flickered disturbingly over to where Ginny and Neville sat. Josephine and Evelyn had both sat down again, looking too frightened to even glance up at the headmaster.

After a few moments, Snape swept away from Alecto and moved to stand before the staff table. "All of you," he snapped. "Return to your dormitories _at once_. This evening's curfew begins in ten minutes. And if you think you might get past it, I welcome you to try."

Parvati and Lavender had to hold Seamus's shoulders to stop him leaping up in his seat. "You stinking old—"

"No! Please, no!"

Ginny looked round. Alecto had seized Evelyn by the collar and was half-dragging, half-marching the girl from the hall.

"I'm sorry," Evelyn wailed as she was pulled past Ginny. "Please, _no!_"

"What are you all waiting for?" Snape called sharply, and Ginny felt herself being pulled by the elbow.

"C'mon," Neville muttered in her ear as they were buffeted out of the hall. "Meeting, now, Parvati's contacting the others…"

"No, that's what Snape wants," Ginny whispered back. "Didn't you see him? He told Carrow to take her, they want to catch us!"

"I know," Neville answered. "Just come on, I have an idea."

So Ginny led the way up the marble staircase, and in a matter of minutes, nearly all of Dumbledore's Army had assembled in the Room of Requirement. Parvati and Lavender were hurriedly filling in the details for those who hadn't been in the Great Hall, while Neville explained his plan to Ginny and Seamus.

"We need to help Evelyn," he said firmly, and Ginny nodded. "I want to vandalize the sixth floor again."

Seamus stared at him. "What does that have to do with—?"

"I want to draw the Carrows away from the dungeons, so there's time to break Evelyn free," he said.

"Yeah, but, even if we did manage to break Snape's new curfew, who's going to get Evelyn if we're all on the sixth floor?" Seamus asked, frowning. "And if we do manage to get her, what's going to stop them from just taking her right back down?"

"He wants to do the sixth floor by himself," Ginny said in a low voice. "He wants to get caught. Neville, you prat—"

"It's partially our fault she's down there in the first place," Neville pleaded. "If I'm caught, they'll forget about her and take me instead, they won't hurt me too badly, I'm pure-blood!"

"Ginny's right, you're being a prat!" Seamus hissed. "You're our leader, Neville, you can't go around making stupid decisions like this!"

"Exactly, let me be the leader and take the blame for Evelyn," Neville answered. "Come on, Ginny, you agree with me, don't you?"

"Actually, no, I don't," Ginny said, folding her arms. "I agree with Seamus."

Neville gaped at her for a moment. Then he narrowed his eyes. "It's what Harry would do."

This was a bit low, in Ginny's opinion, but she gritted her teeth. "And who on earth ever said that Harry's judgment is always sound when it comes helping people?"

"Look, I was just hoping to get your support before I told them the plan," Neville began, but Ginny cut him off.

"Well, you haven't got it." She turned firmly on her heel and faced the others. "Hey! All of you, listen up! We've got a plan worked out, and if anyone's got a problem, say so quickly, but you'd better have a solution. I'm going to go and cause some mayhem on one of the upper floors to draw the Carrows away from the dungeon. A few of you are going to keep an eye out for Snape, and the rest are going to go and get Evelyn. All right?"

"What about you?" Parvati asked.

"I'll be all right," Ginny lied casually. "Now, is everybody all right with the plan?" She looked directly to Ernie. It had become standard practice in the D.A. to always confirm that the plans were solid before proceeding, and Ernie, predictably, was the most vocal whenever they were not.

"Let's go and help her," he said immediately, and Ginny smiled.

Neville grabbed her upper arm as everyone else set about preparing to break curfew once again, and whispered, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I can run a lot faster than you," she answered. "I can get away, and the distraction of thinking they've nearly got me will be just enough to get the Carrows to leave Evelyn alone. It's better you stay here, avoid getting them angry as long as you can. You're more important to all this than I am, anyhow." She gestured around the Room of Requirement.

"I'm not," Neville said automatically.

Ginny tipped her head to one side for a moment. "Yeah, Neville. You are."

Without another word, she hurried over to the cabinet where they stored all of Fred and George's supplies. In minutes, everyone was ready to move. Ginny stood closest to the door, and reached into her pocket. She held up her enchanted Galleon.

"I'll send word when I see them, all right?"

"Good luck," said Susan Bones.

"You all, too," Ginny answered, hoping she sounded a bit braver than she felt. She slipped out the door and scurried down the deserted corridors, eyes and ears open. Finally, she reached what had to be the only untouched bit of stone wall left in the castle. And, standing conveniently beside it was a suit of armor.

"All right," she murmured, tucking herself behind a statue of an exceptionally large warty toad. She pointed her wand at the suit of armor. "_Confringo!_"

With an echoing din and a clatter, the suit of armor exploded into pieces, clattering loudly over the stone floor as the spell ricocheted off the ceiling and took a chunk out of the wall. Ginny ducked, unable to suppress a grin; she supposed she must have been truly angry, for rarely were her blasting curses so effective.

She leapt out from behind the statue just in time to meet Mrs. Norris, who fixed her in her lamplike gaze for only a moment before streaking off to find Filch. Ginny's heart began to race, and she pulled out her bottle of Indelible Ink. She had to make sure they knew who they were catching, so…

"This way!"

It had taken less than five minutes for the Carrows to abandon the dungeon and come hurtling up six flights of stairs. In that time, Ginny had drawn a massive phoenix on the wall, directly in front of the Transfiguration classroom. She knelt and reached a hand into her sock, found her Galleon, and sent a signal to Neville to go to the dungeons.

"There 'e is! It's Longbottom, all right!" Alecto barked. Ginny looked around, hiding the Galleon again, to see Amycus and Alecto both tearing down the corridor, wands drawn. They thought she was Neville? Considering that the Carrows seemed never to have noticed the difference in size between herself and Neville, it was going to be much easier to confuse them…

Concentrating hard, she thought, _Expelliarmus!_ and both Carrows' wands flew from their hands. Amid their yells of shock and anger, Ginny took off running.

_Mustn't get too far_, she thought, rounding a corner. _They've got to come close to catching me_…she looked over her shoulder, and could only see Alecto; Amycus had to still be searching for his wand. She glanced down at her watch. She had bought the D.A. five full minutes thus far, but they would need more…

A streak of red light flew over Ginny's left shoulder, and she ducked instinctively to her right, crashing painfully into a second suit of armor. Swearing and rubbing her shoulder, she shot an Impediment Jinx and a Leg-Locker Curse at the Carrows without looking back. They were far too close, and she needed to get just a bit farther ahead…

_Nine minutes_, she thought, clutching a stitch in her side as she dived out of the way of another Stunner.

"_Expelliarmus!_" she shouted automatically, when a jet of white light sailed dangerously close to her.

"It's Weasley!" bellowed Alecto. "Weasley! We've got her! We've—"

Ginny fired a Silencing Charm directly at Alecto's face just as the Galleon in her sock heated up—it had been fifteen minutes, and the D.A. had gotten Evelyn—now she just had to get away, which was more than doable, even with both Carrows dogging her path.

A brilliant jet of green light soared over Ginny's head, and her stomach turned to ice. She skidded to a halt and looked around in utter shock and horror; Alecto had stopped running, too, and was grinning evilly at her. Then, with a thrill of horror, Ginny realized that she was alone. Where was Amycus?

Two arms clamped tightly around her shoulders and neck, cutting off her air; she had thought that he was directly behind his sister, when really, he was simply waiting to trap Ginny from the other direction…she dropped her wand, all thoughts of Alecto's Killing Curse driven from her mind by the fact that she could no longer breathe…

"We've had just about enough 'a you, Weasley," Amycus growled in her ear.

Alecto was still smiling in that sickly satisfied way, advancing on Ginny, as she finally could no longer breathe, and everything went dark.

* * *

She didn't know how long she was unconscious, but she quickly realized that the reason she was waking up was the pain she was in. She opened her eyes.

She was in the dungeon where the Carrows had first tortured her, but they were nowhere in sight. The terrible pain she felt in her arms was coming from the chains that bound her wrists to the wall and pinned them over her head, bearing the full weight of her body, which didn't quite reach the floor. Her legs stuck out in front of her, draping onto the floor as her body made a kind of obtuse angle with her back to the wall.

Seeking to relieve the coursing pain in her shoulders and tingling fingertips, Ginny stiffly and awkwardly pulled herself into a squat, balancing on the balls of her feet with her back still pressed against the stone. Immediately, her arms felt better, though she could feel bruised skin where the stones had dug into her shoulders. Her neck felt as though it had been pinched tight, and she tried to rotate her head—no, it was too painful.

She sighed heavily, her arms trapped ridiculously over her head, and muttered in an undertone, "Brilliant. You've done a good job of it this time." She gave the cuffs on her wrists a shake, but the chains were too short to even attempt to get up and ease the pain.

Instead, Ginny flexed her bloodless fingers, which tingled painfully. She wondered how long she had been trapped down here. Were classes resuming already? Perhaps Professor Slughorn was already in his dungeon classroom…

"Hello?" Ginny shouted. "Is anybody out there?" She thought it unlikely that anyone would hear her through the heavy oak door, but she had to try. She nearly yelled herself hoarse; no one answered her.

It was at least three hours before the dungeon door banged open, and for a moment, her heart leapt—then she saw that it was just Alecto Carrow, unpleasant and sour as ever.

"No one'll hear ye," she growled. "So I'd save yer breath."

Ginny snorted. "And what are you going to do to me _now_ that's worse than anything else you've done? No, wait, I have a better question. What do you expect you _can _do to a pure-blood?" She saw Alecto's piggy eyes narrow, as though she were thinking very hard. "Yeah, that's right, remembered now? I don't reckon your boss will be too happy if you just start killing us off."

"Yer nothin' but a blood traitor, Weasley," Alecto snapped.

"But blood, I have," Ginny answered simply. She gave Alecto a scathing look. "And _you—don't—scare—me_. Understand?"

"_Crucio!_" Alecto screamed, and Ginny writhed, her feet slipping from beneath her so that she fell, jerking her arms painfully.

"An' that's just a bit o' what's comin' to ye," Alecto said viciously. She ripped her wand out of her pocket and hit Ginny's cuffs with a curse that burned white-hot, but sent them flying. "Now get up."

But Ginny remained where she had fallen, rubbing her burned and blistering hands. With a furious growl, Alecto seized her upper arm and yanked her to her feet.

Ginny clenched her teeth against the pain throbbing in her arms as blood rushed back into them. Her legs were regaining feeling with every step as Alecto roughly marched her from the dungeon and up through the castle. When they reached the sweeping marble staircase in the entrance hall, Alecto loosened her grip and stepped slightly behind Ginny, who stopped moving.

"Walk, Weasley, an' don't try anythin'," she said, and Ginny felt not one, but two wandtips poke her in the small of her back. She touched a hand automatically to her pocket. "Yeah, that's right," Alecto said unpleasantly. "An' ye'll get it back if yer a good girl. Now walk."

Ginny repressed the urge to stomp on her foot, and clenched her jaw tightly. "Walk where, _Professor_?"

"Yer goin' ta Dark Arts," Alecto answered. "Get along with ye, or ye'll join 'er!" she barked suddenly at a crowd of passing second year Ravenclaws.

Slowly, Ginny complied, feeling Alecto keep the wands pressed into her back. She climbed stairs all the way up to the seventh floor, her mind racing. Her head was still fuzzy and pounding, along with most of the rest of her body. What day of the week was it? Was she going into her own class? Unlikely—there would be no members of Dumbledore's Army to whom the Carrows would hope to teach a lesson. It was possible she was going to Neville's class, where she would meet the majority of the D.A.…

"'Ere we go, then," Amycus said, as Alecto pushed the door open. Ginny glowered at his ugly, doughy face. "We've got our volunteer. Who'd like ter practice firs', then?"

Ginny looked out over the classroom, expecting to see no raised hands, and the shocked faces of her fellow Gryffindors. Instead, she saw—

"Awright, then, Parkinson, up ye get," Amycus said.

Ginny's stomach dropped. There were still three raised hands in the classroom full of Slytherins and Ravenclaws: Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Pansy Parkinson, her eyes glinting maliciously above her upturned nose, was approaching Ginny.

"Give it a try, Parkinson," Amycus said as Alecto joined him near the wall.

Ginny stood before Pansy, trying not to let any of the pain she already felt show in her hateful glare. Pansy watched her evenly for a moment.

"_Crucio_," she said coolly, and the spell hit Ginny so fast that the wind was knocked out of her. It was not pain unimaginable, as she knew it would be if Pansy had successfully pulled off the curse, but it was enough to really hurt for a few moments. Pansy smirked.

"Do it again," Ginny spat. "I dare you."

"Go on, Pansy!" called Millicent Bulstrode, and someone else wolf-whistled. Ginny looked around to see Malfoy, his pale, pointed face twisted with evil enjoyment, staring at her.

"Again, Parkinson," Amycus barked.

Pansy nodded, drawing a breath. "_Crucio!_"

The spell hit a bit harder, this time, and Ginny was knocked backward a few steps, though she managed to stay on her feet, doubled over in pain.

"Nah, Parkinson—ye gotta hold onto it—Malfoy, get up 'ere, show 'er," Amcyus ordered, snapping his fingers.

Lazily, with a look of smug self-satisfaction, Malfoy drew himself up from his chair to join Pansy at the front of the room. He faced Ginny, a look of cool composure on his face, as though he were truly preparing to savor the moment.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, Malfoy," Ginny muttered. "They let you practice at home, don't they? Who's Daddy had you cursing?" A muscle twitched in Malfoy's jaw, and Ginny saw something of his composure slip. "People who are more powerful than me, I bet…that's why you can face me, right?"

"Shut up, Weasley!" Amycus barked. "Malfoy, do it now!"

"Draco," Pansy whined, pulling on his elbow.

"But those two took my wand, so you're definitely in charge here," Ginny said, still in the same low undertone. "Who've you been practicing on? Muggle kids?"

Malfoy's wand slipped in his sweaty grip.

"Muggle-borns who run away?"

"Do it _now_, Malfoy!" Amycus ordered.

"Prisoners?" There was no mistaking it, now, there was fear behind Malfoy's eyes. The entire class was spellbound, watching Ginny overpower him without a wand in her hand. "Go on, then, Draco," she said. "I'm wait—"

She screamed and fell to her knees. With a slashing movement through the air, Malfoy had sent a curse flying—it was not the Cruciatus Curse, for it struck her left shoulder, burning white-hot. She pulled her hand away to see a lot of blood. Pansy was staring between them in shock and horror, Malfoy's face with twisted with hate, and Amycus and Alecto Carrow were giggling wheezily.

"Don't ever talk to me like that again," Malfoy hissed down at Ginny.

"I had no idea it was so easy to scare you," she retorted, staggering to her feet and looking straight up into his face. "Good to know."

"_Crucio!_" Pansy shrieked, but before she could get the word out, Ginny took two strides forward, raised a fist, and hit her quite hard in the jaw.

The Ravenclaws sitting in the back of the room, including Padma Patil, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, and Anthony Goldstein all burst into shocked laughter as Pansy staggered backward. Amycus and Alecto, with twin roars of anger, leapt forward and seized Ginny's arms—she gasped in pain. The wound on her shoulder was still oozing blood.

"Quiet! Shut up, all of ye!" Amycus was roaring at the class as Pansy clung, sobbing, to the front of Draco's robes—the Ravenclaws had started cheering Ginny, who looked at Alecto.

"Bring me back in here tomorrow, please," Ginny asked Alecto politely as she was forcibly dragged from the classroom. "This was fun."

Alecto scowled and fumbled for her wand, pointing it directly at Ginny's face. "_Stupefy_," she growled. There was a flash of red light, and Ginny lost consciousness once again.


	19. Chapter 19

How we all doin', everybody? :) I love you!

* * *

When Ginny awoke this time, it was abruptly, as though someone had yelled at her. She was slumped against the wall of the same dungeon as before. Her blistered wrists stung and burned where the metal cut into them, pinning her arms overhead. Awkwardly, she craned her neck to look down at her shoulder. There was the brownish stain of dried blood on her robes, and she could just see the edge of a slightly raised scar where the wound on her shoulder had been.

Ignoring this angrily, Ginny looked around the dungeon, trying to figure out whether it was day or night. She was alone, and without any daylight, it was impossible to know how long she had been there. There was a gnawing hunger in the pit of her stomach, but she was, oddly, not thirsty.

She wished someone would come and release her arms; they were unbearably painful, and she realized that was what had awoken her so suddenly. She adjusted her position slightly, and her wrists stung painfully. To her great shame, her eyes watered, and she sniffled, rubbing her cheek against her shoulder. She wished suddenly, desperately, that she was back in Gryffindor Tower, with Arnold cuddled against her neck—or, better yet, that she was home with her mother.

And then the tears came thick and fast, and Ginny couldn't stop herself from sobbing. Tears poured down her cheeks as she cried, but she couldn't do anything to wipe them away. Every time she tried to dry her face on her sleeve, her wrists and neck would throb with pain, and she would cry harder.

Ginny felt idiotic, and knew she must look dreadful, her face glazed with tears, but never before had she so badly wanted to just be away from Hogwarts. Anywhere had to be better than the place she so loved that was now turning against her, into a place where teachers threw the Killing Curse at her and people she cared about.

Now, here she was, reduced to a crying mess in the dungeons. She didn't know what was going to become of her. Was she going to be punished even further for her behavior in the Dark Arts class? Even worse, she didn't know if anyone was going to come and rescue her, or even if they could.

For over an hour, Ginny sobbed brokenheartedly as she had not done since she and Harry had ended their relationship. She cried so hard that her head began to ache and spin, and, more for lack of tears than anything else, she began to quiet at last.

She was still unable to wipe away her tears, so she felt them slowly dry on her cheeks, tightening her skin and somehow making her feel as though she were running a high fever. How she wished someone would come and unchain her…even now, her misery was hardening again into anger, and she wanted nothing more than to attack the Carrows…with or without her wand, she would take both of them on gladly…

Then, as if through a fog, Ginny heard voices outside her door. At first she imagined that they might be a passing group of students. Then, she realized that they couldn't be, for the voices belonged to adults, and they were rising in volume, as though a quiet argument was giving way to a louder, more heated one.

Ginny strained to listen, but was unable to tell who was speaking, until—

"FINE!"

With a bang, the door of the dungeon flew open, and torchlight spilled into the room, much brighter than the dim lighting Ginny had been growing accustomed to. She blinked, eyes watering, as she tried to see who it was.

Alecto Carrow stood sullenly in the doorway beside Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. Ginny wondered if she was hallucinating, but then McGonagall rounded angrily on the other two.

"_You_ gave the order for them to hold her here?" she demanded furiously of Snape.

"I deemed it appropriate, as she had attacked another student," he began.

"Another student who attacked her first!" McGonagall retorted. "No thanks to your minions!"

There were two indignant grunts, and Ginny realized that Amycus, too, stood in the corridor outside the dungeon with his sister.

"_However_," Professor Snape continued, as though none of them had spoken, "I certainly did not say that the girl ought to be chained up, nor for so long a period." He faced Amycus and Alecto and said silkily, "I must remind you, Professors, that our priority at Hogwarts is not punishment, but care for our charges. Miss Weasley must be returned safely to her family for her holidays. You will see me in my office later, for a formal reprimand."

"Oh, well handled, headmaster," McGonagall said acidly.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Did you wish to join them, Professor McGonagall?"

"Excuse me," Ginny croaked—her voice was very dry from disuse. "Am I being let out or not?" She was more than slightly annoyed at their disinterest in her.

"Yes, you are," Professor McGonagall said firmly, striding forward and drawing her wand. She released Ginny's arms from the chains, and they fell uselessly at her sides, burning as blood surged into them once more. McGonagall took in her tearstained appearance—Ginny was sure that her eyes had to be quite red—and seemed to forcibly restrain herself from trying to comfort her. "Up you get. Can you stand?"

Ginny nodded, and Professor McGonagall helped her get up from the dirty floor. Her arms felt like lead and her head spun, but she managed to stay upright as Professor McGonagall walked her from the dungeon.

"Wait," said Ginny, stopping before Alecto, who was angrily avoiding her gaze. "You've got my wand, Professor. I'd like it back, please."

Alecto did nothing. Just as Professor McGonagall made an angry noise, Professor Snape spoke.

"Professor, kindly return Miss Weasley's wand," he said evenly. Grumbling, Alecto stuffed a hand into her pocket and produced Ginny's wand, which she thrust into her hand.

"Thanks," Ginny said politely.

"Come along, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said impatiently. "We'll have Madam Pomfrey look you over…"

Ginny threw a last, victorious look over her shoulder at the Carrows and Snape, who remained standing before the open dungeon door, all looking extremely put out. At the top of the stairs, however, she swayed a little, putting a hand to her forehead.

"You need water and sleep," Professor McGonagall said, placing a supportive hand on Ginny's elbow. Her voice was not nearly so strong now as it had been.

"How long was I there?" Ginny asked as they reached the entrance hall and began to climb upstairs to the hospital wing. It was evening, after curfew, to judge by the lit torches and darkness outside, but not particularly late at night.

"Nearly a full day," McGonagall answered her. "They told me you attacked Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy this morning, but when I didn't see you at dinner, I knew that something was wrong." They had arrived at the hospital wing. She let Ginny in first and pointed to a bed. "Sit down. I shall find Madam Pomfrey. Oh—" she went to the bedside table and poured a glass of water from the pitcher that stood there. "Drink this in small sips."

She marched away, leaving Ginny alone. She put the glass of water of the bedside table and hunched over, holding her dully-aching head. She hoped sincerely that Neville, Seamus, and the others had refrained from trying to rescue her, for she was certain that they must know from Padma and the other Ravenclaws what had happened that morning.

She winced; her wrists had just stung very badly, and she pulled back her sleeves a bit to see healing blisters and raw, red skin, just as Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall came hurrying down the ward.

"Where are you hurt, Weasley?" Madam Pomfrey asked immediately, taking Ginny's face in her hands and turning it from side to side, peering into her eyes. Ginny stammered. "You're a bit dehydrated." She met Professor McGonagall's gaze gravely. "See that she drinks that water. I'll get something for her hands."

"Madam Pomfrey?" Ginny asked. "Is—is there something you can do about my shoulder?" She plucked at the torn sleeve, and Madam Pomfrey came to look at the scar. She sucked in a sharp breath, which Professor McGonagall echoed a moment later.

"I'll put it right," Madam Pomfrey said briskly, and she strode away to her medicine chest.

Professor McGonagall sternly pressed the water glass into Ginny's hands again. "Drink."

Ginny obeyed. Now that she had water at last, it was as though she hadn't known how very thirsty she had been. It took her only a few gulps before she finished the glass, and poured herself more water.

"Slowly, please," Madam Pomfrey reminded her patiently. "Let me see your hands first."

Ginny held out one wrist, and then the other, wincing painfully as Madam Pomfrey dabbed a thick, strong-smelling violet paste onto the sores and wrapped bandages around her hands.

"I won't have to stay here tonight, will I?" Ginny asked, putting down her third glass of water to appeal to Professor McGonagall. "I can go back to Gryffindor Tower?"

"That is for Madam Pomfrey to decide," she said, nodding at the matron, who was applying liberal amounts of undiluted essence of dittany, which smoked faintly as Ginny's scar grew smaller and smaller.

Madam Pomfrey gave a rather long-suffering sigh and went to her medicine chest again. She returned with a small blue vial, which she added to Ginny's water. "Drink this, it's better than the water alone. And if you go to bed right away, I'll allow you to leave."

Ginny smiled at her. "Thank you."

"I mean it, Miss Weasley," she answered sternly. "You could have been much more seriously hurt than this. You're very lucky."

"Yes, ma'am," Ginny nodded. To placate Madam Pomfrey, she drank the potion, and a rush of cool air seemed to wash over her; she felt suddenly more awake and alert. "I really do feel much better."

"She's to come straight back to me if she doesn't look well in the morning," Madam Pomfrey said to Professor McGonagall. Then she faced Ginny, her expression much more sympathetic. "Do try to keep yourself well, at least until after your holidays."

Ginny nodded. "I'll do my best."

"Come, Miss Weasley, I'll take you back to Gryffindor Tower," said Professor McGonagall. Ginny stood and followed her from the hospital wing.

"Am I to understand," Professor McGonagall said in an undertone, "That perhaps you had something to do with resolving the misfortune that befell Evelyn Alistair yesterday?"

Ginny looked away from her. "They shouldn't have taken her like that. They were after us, not her."

Professor McGonagall gave an exasperated sigh. "Miss Weasley—"

"Better I than her," Ginny replied calmly. Professor McGonagall said nothing, apparently lost for words. They arrived at the Fat Lady in silence.

"_Filigree_," said Professor McGonagall, and the portrait swung open. "Go to bed, Miss Weasley."

Ginny started to climb through the portrait hole, but stopped and looked back. "Thank you, Professor—for coming to find me."

She nodded once, and Ginny climbed through to the common room, hearing the Fat Lady's portrait swing shut behind her.

"Ginny?" Seamus, Parvati, Neville, and Lavender all stood before her. They were clearly preparing to leave Gryffindor Tower for the Room of Requirement.

"Where did you come from?" Neville laughed shakily, hurrying forward to hug her tightly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ginny assured him. "Call off the meeting before somebody gets caught."

"Oh, right," he said, still in the same shaky voice. He pulled out his enchanted Galleon and sent a message. Ginny winced. She had forgotten that she had hidden her own Galleon in her sock, and it now lay at the bottom of her shoe.

"How did you get away?" Parvati asked, bringing her to sit by the fire. "We've been worried sick—Padma told us about her Dark Arts class this morning, but then you never came back—"

"Did you really punch Malfoy?" Seamus asked, looking fit to burst with pride.

"Didn't get the chance," said Ginny, removing her Galleon from her sock and tucking it in her pocket. "I got Parkinson, though."

"I've wanted to do that for years," said Lavender exultantly.

"We were coming to rescue you," Neville said, sitting down beside Ginny on the sofa.

"It's a good thing you didn't…" And she hurriedly explained all that had happened with Snape and Professor McGonagall.

"That snake," Neville muttered. "He wasn't letting you go anywhere, he just knew McGonagall wouldn't let him keep you any longer."

"It doesn't matter," Ginny said impatiently. "What about the whole reason I was caught?" They stared blankly at her. "Evelyn, where's Evelyn?" she asked. "Is she all right?"

"Oh!" Parvati said. "Yeah, it was weird, no one came after us once we got her."

"That'll be because they really wanted me," Ginny said, looking pointedly at Neville. "And they thought I was you, at first. I'm glad you didn't go."

"Me?" Neville repeated, looking stunned. "How could they think you were me?"

"They're idiots," Seamus said reasonably.

"The point is, they're after you," Ginny said. She lifted her bandaged wrists. "I have a feeling you'd be a lot worse off than I am, and they wouldn't have let you go, even if McGonagall had intervened."

There were a few beats of silence, as Neville considered this unsettling prospect.

"You look exhausted," Parvati said gently, touching Ginny's arm. "You should get some sleep."

"No," she said, still watching Neville. "I want to talk about what happens after the holidays next week." He looked up, startled, and she smiled. "Oh, come on. You're not afraid of them, are you?"

Neville grinned. "We'll take these last two nights off," he said. "They'll have the whole of next week to try and get ready for us, and then we need to start launching nightly attacks."

Seamus made a triumphant gesture, leaping out of his seat. "That's what I love to hear!"

"Hello?"

They all looked around to the spiral staircases to see Evelyn Alistair, Josephine O'Brien, and a contingent of nine or so first and second years peering curiously into the common room. Seamus lowered his fist quickly and sat down again, but Josephine marched straight up to him.

"Are you in Dumbledore's Army, Seamus Finnigan?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips and glaring fiercely in Seamus's face.

"Er—"

"Because I think that's bloody brilliant," Josephine continued, in the same pugnacious tone. Seamus, Neville, and Lavender burst out laughing.

"No, really!" Evelyn said, hurrying over. Several of her companions followed. She placed a hand in Ginny's and squeezed. "You _are_ the ones who have been protecting us this whole time! I knew it! Thank you so much," she said earnestly, throwing her arms around Ginny's neck.

"Yeah, thanks, really," said a boy Ginny remembered was called Carmichael.

"Thank you," the others chorused, and one boy clapped Neville on the back. Several girls smothered Ginny, Parvati and Lavender in hugs, and Josephine was berating a good-natured Seamus for not telling her sooner.

As Ginny hugged one particularly short second year girl, she caught Neville's eye and grinned.

* * *

"Anybody want me to get something special from my brothers?" Ginny asked, poking her head in the train compartment across from her own. Arnold sat tucked in her hair, squeaking amicably. Ernie, Hannah, and Susan shook their heads.

"We're running a bit low on Instant Darkness Powder," Padma said. "And I need some more first aid supplies, mainly potions and ingredients."

"I can get those from my dad," said Terry.

"You're just going to ask him, are you?" asked Michael. "'Dad, listen, my friends and I need your medicine chest so that we can give each other untrained treatment while we duel our teachers. Help us out?'"

"Shut up," Terry retorted, aiming a kick at him.

"So just to be clear," Ginny called to Padma and Susan, who were seated by the compartment window, "I'll get more powder, and that's it?"

"Sounds good, Ginny," Susan answered over the din of Terry and Michael wrestling.

Ginny snorted and left their compartment, returning to her own, where she sat with the other Gryffindors and a snoring, motion-sick Anthony Goldstein. Seamus and Neville were tied in a tense game of Gobstones, and Lavender and Parvati were practicing wand movements.

"Whatever our teachers are like, we've still got N.E.W.T.s at the end of all this," Parvati said when Ginny looked at her inquisitively. She cleared her throat meaningfully at the boys. "That's you two, as well."

Neville opened his mouth to speak at precisely the wrong moment—one of Seamus's Gobstones shot him with Stink Serum, and he choked.

Seamus shrugged, unconcerned as Ginny pounded Neville on the back. "I love Hogwarts and all, but I'd rather do something that doesn't need O.W.L.s and all that."

Ginny raised her eyebrows, disentangling Arnold from a strand of hair. "Good luck. Even my brother Charlie had to get his N.E.W.T.s, and his job has almost nothing to do with anything you learn in school."

"Well, I could do something like what he does," Seamus said earnestly. "Care of Magical Creatures is great. I could do—I dunno—kelpie protection, or something."

"Speaking of Care of Magical Creatures," Neville said hoarsely, for he had finally finished choking on the Stink Serum, "Why was Hagrid so down this morning?"

Ginny sighed heavily as Arnold scampered happily around her neck. She had said goodbye to a very gloomy Hagrid before boarding the Hogwarts Express. "I think he reckons the Carrows are really after him. They've been horrible to everybody since they haven't caught us, and he's been getting a lot of trouble just for being—well, you know. A 'half-breed,'" she said distastefully, drawing quotation marks in midair with her fingertips. "And it's harder with Grawp." She lowered her voice. "I mean, we know about him, sure, but I'll bet Hagrid's been working very hard this year to keep him a secret. And you can imagine how Grawp is, he would kill anyone that threatened Hagrid, without even thinking about it."

"I like that giant," Seamus said decidedly.

"The train's slowing down," Lavender said. "We're here."

Neville looked out onto Platform 9¾. "Well, doesn't look like the Carrows' friends are here for any of us, this time," he said in a feeble attempt at a joke. Ginny looked around at them all. The next week seemed like an eternity, somehow even longer than the Christmas holidays. Were they all going to be safe away from Hogwarts, now that the Carrows had an idea of who they were looking for?

As though her thoughts were echoed in the other compartment full of D.A. members, the door slid open, and Ernie stepped inside.

"Everyone checks in every day?" he asked Neville, who nodded.

"Use the coins," he said. "And be careful."

Ginny was seized by a sudden, mad desire to simply stay put on the train. Going out onto the platform meant exposing Dumbledore's Army to outside forces, the world beyond Hogwarts.

"Look, Ginny, isn't that your brother?" Neville said. Sure enough, almost directly outside the window, there stood Bill with Fleur. Bill was looking up and down the platform, his hand closed tightly around something in his jacket pocket.

"You never said he married Fleur Delacour," said Seamus, his voice slipping into the dreamy tone that Ginny associated with Fleur's most annoying quality.

"Sure I did," she grumbled, helping Anthony pull his trunk down from the luggage rack. "Ouch."

"What's wrong?"

Ginny rubbed her shoulder. "Madam Pomfrey mended the cut, but it's weird—still hurts."

"I don't think the Carrows were particularly bothered about healing you properly," said Lavender as they all pushed their way out of the compartment. Ginny stopped at the train door, looking back at the eleven people crowded behind her. "Everybody stay safe, all right?" There were nods and smiles. "See you in a week, then," she promised, and she stepped off the train.

"Bill!" she called, hurrying over to him, Arnold squeaking and swaying on her shoulder. Bill caught her up in a warm hug. "I missed you!"

"Ah, we missed you too," he said, grinning. Up close, he looked tired and pale. So did Fleur, to Ginny's surprise; as usual, she was immaculate.

"How are you, Fleur?" Ginny asked, embracing her.

"Just fine," Fleur promised. "We are glad you are 'ome."

"Where are Mum and Dad?" she asked Bill.

"They're at the Burrow. I volunteered to come and see you home," he said. "I'm told they're not teaching Apparition anymore, or I'd let you practice."

Ginny blinked. Somehow, in the last three months, she had forgotten entirely that she was meant to be learning to Apparate. She would, after all, be seventeen at the end of the summer. Now the absence of lessons seemed incredibly odd. "N-no," she said quietly.

"Zey are saying zat eet is too dangerous to lift ze enchantments on ze castle for you to practice," Fleur said. "Eet was in ze _Daily Prophet_. Of course, eet is obvious wat zey want—"

"If only a few students have their license, then they can keep a tighter hold on you," Bill finished. "You seem surprised."

"Er," Ginny said, "No. No, I, uh…I remember hearing that, now…about the enchantments, I mean."

"Well, you 'ave been busy, I imagine," Fleur said, and Ginny's heart pounded erratically for a moment as she looked wildly at Fleur.

"B-busy?" she asked. Had Fred and George spilled her secret?

"Wiz your classes," Fleur said, staring at her in mild concern. "Of course."

"Oh—oh, yes," said Ginny, nodding. "Classes. Yes. Very busy." She tried to ignore Bill's searching gaze. She had so long ached to return home, she had forgotten that it meant hiding from her parents and brothers what exactly she was up to at Hogwarts. "Shall we go?"

Bill allowed Fleur to take hold of Ginny's trunk, and Ginny clutched Arnold's empty cage (the Pygmy Puff was still nestled against her neck) to her chest as Bill turned on the spot and yanked them into crushing darkness. Moments later, they stood before the Burrow. It was cold and windy, but there was no more snow on the ground, and Ginny could just see patches of the sunset through the thick gray clouds in the sky.

With a pop, Fleur appeared, carrying Ginny's trunk, which Bill took. Arnold squeaked in discomfort at the cold wind and tried to scramble down Ginny's shirtsleeve as they walked to the front door. She caught him and tucked him safely into his cage.

Just as Ginny placed her hand on the knob, the door swung open.

"Remus?" said Bill in shock. "Are you all right?"

"I—I've got to go," Lupin said distractedly, pushing past Ginny and Fleur as though he had not seen them. "Sorry—got to leave—"

And he dashed away, Disapparating at a point beyond the fence. Ginny had a horrible, sinking feeling in her heart. "Mum?" she shouted, hurrying into the house and putting Arnold down on a chair. "Dad?"

They appeared at once in the kitchen doorway, Mum with tears streaming down her face. She enveloped Ginny in a bone-cracking hug.

"Mum," Ginny wheezed. "What is it?"

"Dad, what's happened?" Bill demanded. Fleur stood beside him, looking terrified.

"Eez Tonks all right?" she asked.

"She and the baby are both fine," Dad said heavily. "It seems that Tonks's father, Ted—" he drew a deep, shaky breath. "He was found, dead."

"Dead?" Bill repeated.

Ginny felt her heart break for Tonks and Andromeda. She held onto her mother a little tighter—Mum seemed unwilling to release her.

"Along with my friend, Dirk Cresswell," Dad said miserably.

Bill rubbed his face hard, and Fleur burst into tears. He put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "He worked in our office quite a bit," he explained.

"There was also a goblin," Mum said, sniffling and pulling free from Ginny at last. Her eyes were red and watery. "And—" she looked at Ginny, her chin trembling. "There were more with them, who got away, it looks like—but the Order have got no idea where they are…"

"Who?" Ginny asked in a hollow voice.

"Another goblin, and your friend," Dad said. "Dean Thomas."

Ginny was suddenly overcome with a terrible lightheadedness, and sat down abruptly on the arm of the sofa. "Dean?"

"He got away, dear, he got away," Mum insisted.

"But you…you've just said they—the Order—they don't know where…he is…"

"Ginny?"

"_Ginny!_"

* * *

"Oh, thank Merlin."

Ginny opened her eyes. She was lying in her own bed, staring up at the chipped and cracked pale violet ceiling. She blinked hazily, and Mum's face swam into view. She placed something cool and damp on Ginny's forehead.

For a brief moment, Ginny wondered if she had imagined the whole thing—but no, the gnawing misery in the pit of her stomach was enough to tell her that this was not the case.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Mum asked gently, smoothing her hair.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm fine," she lied. "Just—surprised. I'm really tired from the train, I guess."

"You don't look well at all," Mum answered, still stroking her hair tenderly.

"Just tired," Ginny murmured, raising her hands to rub her eyes. "I didn't mean to scare you." But she was not quick enough to disguise her wince when her injured shoulder ached suddenly.

"What on earth—? Oh, _Ginny_," Mum gasped. Ginny almost rolled her eyes—it was so like her mother, who was so very acutely aware of every tiny detail about her children, to gasp in horror at the sight of a very faint, flat white scar barely visible under Ginny's collar.

"Mum," she said embarrassedly, sitting up and pulling off the cold cloth on her forehead. "I'm fine. I just got a scrape in Care of Magical Creatures. The mark's almost gone."

Mum looked skeptical, but said nothing for a moment, instead glancing away.

"Mummy," Ginny said gently, after a minute or two, "I'm—I'm all right. I just—I didn't think it was worth writing home about—"

"Oh, Ginny, please don't think that I'm oblivious," she answered in a low voice. It was the injury and hurt in her tone that made Ginny fall immediately silent. Mum gave a heavy sniff and wiped her eyes, still looking away from her. "I don't want this for you. Any of this. You know that, but—but I wish you would know that I will always listen to everything you have to say to me."

"I—I do know that, Mum," Ginny implored, touching her shoulder. "It's just—the truth is—it's complicated, it's difficult to explain—I don't want to worry you and Dad—"

Mum gave a tiny, mirthless laugh and looked at Ginny directly in the eyes. "Darling, we couldn't be more worried about you if we tried." She wiped her eyes one last time. "Lie down, sweetheart. I'll bring you a tray in a bit."

"I'm all right, I'll come down and help," Ginny began, but Mum pressed her back on to the pillows.

"Do not get out of this bed," she said firmly, and Ginny nodded once. Mum brushed a kiss on the top of her head. "Good girl."

But once the door was closed, Ginny buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.


	20. Chapter 20

Hello my darling beauties! :) God I love you all so much!

Okay, so with this chapter (which, you have undoubtedly noticed, is LONG), we conclude Ginny's narration of the story, at least for a little while. I want to give you an idea of the dates as I see them at this point. They are approximate and in no way should be considered law. It's somewhat important, at least for the next two chapters, to understand what time we are in, so that's the only reason this note is here.

The first half of this chapter, up to the break, happens around the fourteenth to eighteenth of March. The bit after the break, which many of you might recognize from "Oh, Harry," happens on the fourth of April, the night that Teddy Lupin is born.

When we begin chapter twenty-one (any guesses as to who's narrating? I think some of you know and the rest can figure it out, it's not hard), we go back to the night that the Weasleys leave the Burrow, and then skip ahead to about the tenth of April. Clear enough? I'll remind you again next week! Just wanted to walk you through it first. :) OFF WE GO, YOU WONDERFUL FOLK.

* * *

"Your move, Dad," Ginny said, nodding at the chessboard. Dad seemed startled, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and peered down at the game.

"How'd you do that?" he asked with interest, pointing to her queen, which had just beheaded one of his knights.

"You left him unprotected, poor fellow," she answered, shaking her head sympathetically as she watched the knight get dragged off the board and dumped unceremoniously onto Dad's growing pile of sacrificed chessmen.

"Sorry, there," he said, and the little knight answered something only half-understandable, but quite rude.

"What time is it?"

Ginny looked around; her mother was coming down the stairs, tying her dressing gown. "Half-past ten," she said helpfully. Things had been tense in the Burrow this week, and the tension had not been alleviated by visits from anyone. Charlie had returned for a brief time to Romania, Bill and the twins were all too busy to come home, and Remus and Tonks were understandably occupied.

For the last two days, Ginny had been maintaining a friendly awkwardness with her mother, who shockingly had not tried further to get information out of Ginny, but was constantly surveying her with a kind of disappointed sadness. It wasn't even as though Mum were trying purposefully to make her feel guilty; she truly was disappointed and sad, and nothing on earth could have made Ginny feel any worse.

"Arthur, _Potterwatch_," she said urgently, dashing over to the wireless.

"No, it's not till eleven," Dad insisted, leaping up as well. "I remember—"

"…Suits him, of course." Kingsley's slow, deep voice came crackling suddenly from the wireless, and Mum gave Dad an amused, exasperated look as he carried the radio to sit on the table before the sofa. Ginny hurried to join her parents, eager to hear the broadcast.

Kingsley was still speaking. "The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself."

"Agreed," said a voice, and Mum gasped.

"Fred!"

"No, I think it's George," Dad said.

"It's Fred, all right, and when I get my hands on that boy—"

"Molly, they've been helping Lee for months," he reminded her.

"I said they could help, I didn't say they could put themselves on the program!" Mum answered.

"Wait, shh," Ginny said, grinning and turning the volume up.

"…For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes. That's a _basilisk_, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that's glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it's safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely to be the last thing you ever do."

Ginny burst into laughter, but sobered at once when she caught sight of her mother's horrified expression. She had to bite her lip very hard to avoid giggling again.

"And the rumors that he's been sighted abroad?" came Lee's voice.

"Well, who wouldn't want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he's been putting in?" Ginny snorted. Fred continued, "Point is, people, don't get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he's out of the country. Maybe he is, Maybe he isn't, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to, so don't count on him being a long way away if you're planning on taking any risks. I never thought I'd hear myself say it, but safety first!"

"Good boy," Dad said softly, and Ginny beamed. Even Mum was smiling tentatively.

"Thank you very much for those wise words, Rapier," said Lee.

"_Rapier_?" Ginny laughed.

"Listeners, that brings us to the end of another _Potterwatch_. We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: The next password will be 'Mad-Eye.' Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night."

"Ah, well," Dad said. "Sorry, Molly dear."

"At least they're safe," Mum sighed, picking up the radio and returning it to its spot on the shelf. "I'm going to bed, you two. Don't stay up too late, Ginny."

"Night, Mum," she answered, and Mum waved as she disappeared back up the spiral stairs. Ginny sighed, leaning back on the couch beside Dad.

"All right, sweet pea?" he asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"I don't know what I can say to her," she answered, throwing a hand up in frustration. "I can't make her happy."

"You're right," Dad answered, kissing the top of her head. "You can't. Give her time." Ginny sighed heavily again. "We both love you, and we want you to be safe. That's all."

"I know," Ginny grumbled.

Dad stretched widely and gave Ginny a one-armed squeeze. "I'm going up, too, I think. Night, sweetheart."

"Night," she murmured. She heard him go upstairs and settled further into the couch, folding her arms. She hated lying to her parents—though it was no longer a lie, really, not if they had figured out at least part of what she was up to.

Groaning, Ginny collapsed sideways onto the cushions, covering her face with her hands. She heard the clock strike eleven…her eyes were getting very heavy…but she didn't feel like going up to bed yet…

"MUM! DAD! WHERE ARE YOU? GINNY?"

With a startled yelp, Ginny sat up on the couch to see Bill racing through the kitchen doorway.

"Get up, Ginny, get up and grab some things!" he shouted at her, already halfway up the stairs. Ginny looked sleepily at the clock, only half-awake; it was past three in the morning. "GET UP, GINNY!"

"Bill, what is it?" Dad appeared on an upper landing with Mum at his side.

"No time—Dad, you've got to get out of here, I don't know how long—" Bill looked down at his watch. "Come on, please, trust me, I've got to get you to Muriel's!"

"Muriel's?" Ginny repeated.

Bill let out a roar of frustration, frightening all of them. "I can't explain now, you've got to get going! Get Errol, get some clothes, and I've got to take you, now!"

"Bill, _what's happened_?" Ginny demanded, her eyes full of tears. It was a strange sight. Bill was halfway up the stairs. Mum and Dad stood together on the top floor, and Ginny stood frozen on the bottom.

"They found Harry," Bill said urgently. Ginny was deeply scared—Bill, of all her brothers, was never frightened like this. "He's safe now, but Ron was with them, and any minute they're going to break the enchantments and come through that door!"

Mum looked ready to faint, but sprang into action. "Arthur, get the owl and get Ginny packed!"

Ginny bounded up the stairs. Bill dashed down past her, and she wondered briefly where he was going; then, she realized he was going outside, to defend the house from whoever was going to come and get them. The sight made her sick to her stomach. What if—?

"Ginny, come on!" Dad barked, and she hurried after him into her bedroom, where he was already sending a few stray clothes and books into her trunk with sweeps of his wand. Ginny picked up Arnold's cage and flicked her own wand, locking the trunk.

Dad shot one more spell at it, which made it glow violet for a moment—when Ginny went to pick it up, it was nearly weightless and a thousand times easier to carry.

"Do not move from this room until your mother and I come to get you," Dad ordered. "If you hear anything, hide, and if it's safe, run. I mean it, Ginny."

She nodded once.

"I'm going to go and help your mother."

With a swift kiss to her forehead, Dad disappeared, shutting the door behind him. Arnold was squeaking shrilly, and Ginny tried to comfort him. She strained her ears, listening carefully for any sounds. Both of her parents were running around overhead, she could hear two sets of footsteps. She was sure that Bill would yell if anyone broke the enchantments, unless…no, it was too horrible…

Her bedroom door banged open, and Ginny jumped so violently she dropped Arnold's cage. Mum appeared, and Ginny could just see Dad out on the landing, carrying two bags and Errol's cage down the stairs.

"Come on, Ginny," Mum said urgently. "Let's go."

Ginny obeyed, following her father down the stairs, her trunk bouncing along behind her. "Mum, what—?" Her mother had stopped at the top of the stairs, and was sealing the doors to all the rooms that she could reach. "Mum, come on!"

"That's not going to hold them out, Molly!" Dad called. "We've got to leave, now!"

"DAD!"

Bill's cry from the garden filled Ginny with chilling fear; Death Eaters—Ministry workers—it was impossible to know the difference, now, but they had arrived.

Dad dropped the bags and cage he was holding, drawing his wand in one movement. "Take Ginny and go! Bill and I will join you!"

"Arthur!" Mum screamed, and Ginny ran after him. "Ginny, _no!_"

It was the first time in her memory that Ginny could remember her mother using a spell against her. The Impediment Jinx collided with her, and she was knocked backwards. Mum was dashing down the stairs.

"Mum, I can help them!" Ginny insisted, rubbing her aching side. "Please, let me—"

"We're doing as your father says," Mum said fiercely, seizing her hand. "You can't Apparate, you're coming with me!"

"Mum, please!" Ginny begged, tears filling her eyes. She didn't know what she would do if this was the last time she ever saw her father or Bill…

"No, sweetheart," Mum whispered. "We've got to go."

Ginny's lip trembled. "Okay."

With a flick of her wand, Mum sent the bags and cages ahead.

Outside the sitting room windows, Ginny could see flashes of red and violet…streaks of bright blue…something in the room caught her eye.

"Mum, wait," she said, and she leapt over the back of the sofa to grab the object. "Okay!"

There was a sudden, terrible yell of pain from outside.

"Bill! Dad!" Ginny yelled, trying to break away from her mother, who clung tightly to her arm and turned on the spot.

Ginny hit the ground hard in Aunt Muriel's front garden. She lay on her back, gasping for breath, and hurriedly wiped away two tears that had started down her cheeks.

"What the devil does he mean by it, waking me in the middle of the night!" Auntie Muriel was standing in her doorway wearing a dressing gown, ranting angrily to, apparently, no one.

Mum was already on her feet, casting protective charms. Ginny, winded, crawled over to where Arnold was squeaking miserably in his overturned cage, and Errol was soundly sleeping in his.

"_Salvio Hexia…Cave Inimicum…_" Mum muttered, racing around the garden. "We can't set the Fidelius Charm until—" she broke off, looking at Ginny, who paused in the act of wiping her muddy palms on her jeans. "Until your father's here…"

"Mum! Ginny!"

"And _these_ two!" Muriel shrieked.

Ginny looked around just in time to be seized in a relieved hug by George, who had come racing out of the house, Fred on his heels. "What's going on? Bill turned up at our flat, said we had to get out—"

"Where's Dad?" Fred asked immediately.

Ginny looked between her brothers, and she knew they picked up her overwhelming fear. "They came for us, just as we were leaving," she said. "Dad and Bill were fighting them…" She trailed off.

"They'll be okay," George said bracingly, though he looked extremely white under the light of the moon.

"I don't suppose anyone's going to tell me _why_ you're all here, setting up charms I didn't ask for!" shrieked Aunt Muriel across the garden.

"She's been in a right state since Bill left to get you," George muttered, and Mum nodded.

"It's all right, Auntie," she said, hurrying over to her. "Come inside, I'll explain everything—"

"Well somebody had better, I'm a hundred and seven! I need my rest!"

Ginny gave a miserable laugh. "Help me with these?" she asked, and Fred and George quietly set to work picking up the scattered bags, cages, and Ginny's trunk. The toe of her shoe hit something as she bent to pick up Errol's cage, and she saw the item she had rescued from the sitting room; Mum's clock.

As had been the case for nearly two years, all nine hands pointed at "Mortal Peril," so there was no way of knowing if Bill or Dad were all right. It was with a pang in her heart that Ginny saw Percy's name; was he going to be safe?

"You saved that?" George asked, coming over to examine it. "Wow, Gin."

"Mum would've missed it," she said quietly. She pointed at the clock. "What about Percy?"

"The great prat can fend for himself," Fred said bitterly.

"Fred," she said, shocked.

"I mean it!" Fred said furiously. "He's had two years to come round, and I'm tired of waiting for it. All of this is about a thousand times more important than a stupid family fight. For all we know, he signed the order that you and Mum and Dad should be arrested."

"He wouldn't," Ginny retorted fiercely. "He would never."

"He hasn't spoken to any of us in almost two years, so we can't say what he would or wouldn't do anymore," said Fred.

"Fred, he's our brother," George said. And, as it always did when Fred was angry, George's levelheadedness made him drop the subject. George looked at Ginny. "I'll ask Lee to check on Percy, okay?"

Ginny nodded.

"C'mon, let's get inside," Fred muttered. "It's freezing." He picked up Ginny's trunk and a bag and led the way inside.

Mum was just coming down the stairs. "Is your father here, yet?" She read the answer in their faces. "I got your aunt to go back upstairs. Fred, George, you'll be sleeping in the parlor up there. Ginny, you'll have the attic room." She sighed heavily. "You should all get to bed—"

"Are you mad?" Fred, George, and Ginny chorused at once, and Mum gave a flicker of a smile, though her chin trembled and her eyes filled with tears. At that precise moment, there was a popping noise outside in the garden.

"Oh, thank goodness," she gasped, hurrying to fling the door open just as Dad appeared. He was pale white and shaking as he hugged her. "Where's Bill?" she asked.

"He's gone back to Shell Cottage," Dad said. "He's just fine. We got away, Molly, we're all right," he added soothingly, hugging her as she clung to his shoulder, hiding her face.

There were a few moments where no one spoke. Ginny held one arm tightly around Fred and the other around George. She closed her eyes; she felt safest with at least a few of her brothers…

"Dad, we've got to get the Fidelius Charm up," Fred said quietly, as though he were afraid of intruding on their parents' embrace. "They're going to start looking for us. Then we can worry about warning Charlie…"

"Probably already at the flat," George muttered nervously. "I don't care about the merchandise, but the Pygmy Puffs…"

"We'll ask Oliver to rescue them, when it's safe," Fred promised, as Dad prised Mum off of his shoulder.

"All right," Dad said, addressing them all. "This is very simple, if you stay still and quiet. Come and stand in a circle, here."

"Wait a moment, you're not barring me from my own house!" snapped a crabby voice from the stairs. Aunt Muriel was coming down, mumbling unintelligibly about disrespect and inconveniences. Dad's nostrils gave an impatient little flare, and Ginny repressed a snort.

Aunt Muriel joined them, standing between Fred and George, who shared a look of exasperation over her hairnetted head.

"I'm Secret Keeper," Dad said calmly. He drew his wand and swept it in a wide circle over their heads. A trail of silvery dust and light seemed to drop from it, fading before it touched their shoulders. "If anything happens to me…the Secret goes to you all. Don't forget that." He drew a second circle going in the opposite direction. "You're bound from speaking. No one can make you tell anyone else where we are. Understood?"

Ginny nodded, still clutching her mother's clock to her chest. She felt inexpressibly exhausted. Every inch of her ached, just as though she had had a night of detention with the Carrows…

With a half-hearted thrill, she realized that she wouldn't have to return to Hogwarts again. But what of Neville, and Dumbledore's Army? Would it be safe to try and contact them? She decided to wait until morning, to ask the twins what their plans were for contacting their friends.

"I don't know why they send Dawlish, really," Dad was saying to Fred and George as Mum saw Aunt Muriel up to bed again. He shook his head regretfully. "I must have Stunned him three times, just tonight." Dad went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

"Sounds like one hell of a fight," Fred said ruefully. George grimaced, but said nothing, and without further conversation, they went upstairs to the parlor where they would be sleeping.

Ginny was left alone, holding the clock and Arnold's cage. She heaved a sigh and walked over to the downstairs sitting room, where she perched herself in the window seat.

The sky was just turning gray at the very edges of the horizon. She let Arnold out of his cage, and he scampered up her arm and snuggled into his favorite spot behind her ear. The familiar comfort washed over her like warm water, and she basked in it for a moment. Her eyes itched and burned, and she wanted badly to sleep, but she could not stop her mind whirring…what were they doing, back at the Burrow? Had Death Eaters turned up?

She had a sudden, horrible mental image of Bellatrix Lestrange snooping about in her room, and shuddered. What if they destroyed the house, furious that they couldn't find anything? All of her mother's photographs, books…everything they had…

Ginny drew her knees up to her chest, taking comfort in the feeling of Arnold purring comfortingly against her ear, and sat still for nearly twenty minutes, just watching the sky grow lighter.

"Ginny." She looked around. Her father stood in the doorway, a tea service in his hands. "Your mother's got a bed ready for you. Come upstairs."

Wordlessly, and still clinging to the clock, Ginny unfolded herself from the window seat and followed Dad up the staircase. He gave a tired groan as they reached the top.

"Are you okay?" she asked, thinking for a moment that he was injured.

"I wasn't exactly expecting a duel, this time of night," he chuckled. "I need my beauty rest, at my age."

Ginny smiled. "You're not old, Dad."

"Well, thanks," he said amicably. He kissed her cheek. "Go to bed, sweet pea."

"Er—wait. I have to give this to Mum." She held up the clock, and an odd expression overtook Dad's face.

"Thank you," he said softly, "For getting that."

Ginny shrugged, blushing a bit. "Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon gave it to you. I didn't want you to lose it."

Dad nodded to the door just across from where they stood. "Why don't you come with me and give it to her?"

Ginny followed him into the bedroom, where Mum was just turning down the covers. Her hair was coming out of its braid, and she was still in her dressing gown. She looked up. "Oh, thank you, Arthur. Ginny, can you find your room?" she asked.

"Yeah—here, Mum, I grabbed this for you," said Ginny, holding out the clock.

"Oh," Mum said quietly, taking it from her and gazing at it as though she'd never seen it before. Something in her expression made Ginny want to turn away in embarrassment. "Sweetheart…thank you." She pulled Ginny into a tight hug. "Thank you so much."

"It's all right," Ginny mumbled. "I think I'll go to bed. Good night."

"Good night," Dad said, as Mum hurriedly wiped away a tear.

But Ginny didn't move for a moment. Something had just clunked into place in her brain. "Dad…did Bill say…where Harry was safe?"

He blinked slowly. "I think they're at Shell Cottage."

"They?" Ginny asked quickly. "So, Ron and Hermione—?"

Dad nodded. "I think so."

Ginny bit her lip, though she couldn't stop her smile. "They're okay. I mean—for now—but they're okay!" And she hurried forward to hug both of her parents again. "I love you both, so much. Thank you for—for everything."

Mum kissed her forehead. "There's not one thing in this world we wouldn't do for you or your brothers, Ginny. Don't ever forget that."

And for some strange reason, Ginny felt another twinge of embarrassment. It was different from the guilt she had been nursing for hiding everything that the Carrows had done to her…there was something shameful in it…what was she hiding, if she was not going back to Hogwarts any longer? Her parents had just lost their home, why cause them more pain by continuing to keep secrets and lie? As much as it might hurt them now, it would be better, would it not, if the truth were out?

"Ginny?" Mum asked. "Are you all right?"

Tears filled Ginny's eyes, and she looked out the window. The sky was turning pink on the horizon; it was nearly dawn, but if she did not speak now, she might not ever.

"I think I need to—tell you both some things," she said quietly, swallowing a lump in her throat.

* * *

Ginny ducked into the twins' parlor-turned-bedroom, closing the door on one the sound of Mum's angry voice. She seemed to be arguing, yet again, with Auntie Muriel, who was growing more impatient by the day with the presence of so many people in her home. It had been nearly two weeks since they had left the Burrow, and everyone's emotions were running high.

To her great irritation, Ginny had not been permitted to leave Aunt Muriel's house, despite all of her begging to go to Shell Cottage. But quite apart from her mother's development of a protective reflex that prevented Ginny from ever leaving her sight again, Bill had not visited once since the night they had left the Burrow. As he was Secret-Keeper of the cottage's location, only he could bring visitors with him.

"It's just about Ollivander coming tonight," she informed Fred and George when they looked at her curiously. She nodded to the door, where Aunt Muriel's squawks could still be heard. "Though Mum's not in a great mood, and that part's my fault." She heaved a sigh and flopped down on the sofa that was George's bed. Arnold poked his nose out from behind her hair and rolled happily down onto her stomach, purring and humming.

"Goodness me, do you know, I'm starting to think I shouldn't have told her everything at once," Ginny said sarcastically.

"None of this is your fault," Fred promised her.

"Besides, we've got something that'll cheer you up," George said. "We got a message from Hagrid this morning via Oliver Wood. He says hello, and he's doing fine."

"Did you apologize about that Potter party thing?" asked Ginny sternly.

Fred nodded. "We told Oliver to pass it on. I felt awful about it, but as that was what he made it look like…"

"Are you kidding? He was probably thrilled he made the escape look so convincing," George snorted. "Can you imagine, get all those scumbags down to your house only to already have gotten away? He's really proud of himself, I'll bet you anything."

Ginny smiled; she had been at first upset to hear of Hagrid's departure from Hogwarts, and then relieved to know that he had gotten the last word, and planned his own leaving instead of letting the Carrows chase him out.

Mum's angry voice could be heard coming up the stairs; Ginny winced. "I really should've kept it from them a little longer…at least until we got the Burrow back…"

"No, you shouldn't have," George said seriously.

"I'm glad it's not a secret anymore," Fred said. "I hate keeping things from Mum and Dad." Throughout this entire conversation, he and George had been pouring a variety of sinister-looking ingredients into a crystal vial, which George was alternately heating and cooling with his wand.

"And what is it that you two are doing, exactly?" Ginny asked.

"Keeping things from Muriel," George said seriously, frowning in concentration. "Entirely different Quidditch match."

"What've you got for her today?" Ginny asked with interest, getting up and coming closer with Arnold dangling upside down from her sleeve. George tried to tickle him, but when Arnold gave a territorial snort, he quickly withdrew his hand.

"Never interrupt a Pygmy Puff when he's playing," Ginny warned. She held Arnold's fuzzy body next to her cheek and made an intolerably adorable face that had, for sixteen years, gotten her way every time she wanted it. "Come on, tell us."

Fred looked at Ginny. "To answer your question that is based only upon slanderous assumption, my business partner and I are interested in the effects of the Canary Cream potion on a wig."

"More accurately, a moldy, disgusting wig," George supplied, "And what we're curious about is whether or not the sprouting of feathers on said wig would or would not go unnoticed by the wearer."

Ginny burst into laughter.

"You didn't hear the old bat this morning, before you got up," George continued. "After disparaging my stunning good looks with another crack about my ears being uneven—" he pointed at his missing ear, "—she proceeded to inform us that torture at Hogwarts was a standard back in her day, and she didn't see what the fuss was. Now, personally, I always thought Filch was barking mad when he went on about it, but…" he shrugged.

The smile slid off Ginny's face.

"So this is a bit of revenge for you, little sister," Fred said confidently. "And we would only do this for our favorite sister, so you're in a lucky spot, you are."

Ginny tried to smile for a moment, couldn't, and so stood on tiptoe to kiss Fred's cheek first, then George's. "Thanks, you two." She started to leave.

"Don't you want to see how it goes?" George asked.

"Oh, I'll see later," she said casually. "I'm kind of tired. Think I'll lie down."

On her way across the landing, Ginny met her red-faced and slightly disheveled mother, who looked momentarily startled to see her.

"Oh, Ginny, dear," she said, touching her hand. "Could you bring me any spare pillows you might have in that attic? Bill's going to be here with Mr. Ollivander very soon, and—"

"I'll get them," she promised quickly. "Did you say Bill's bringing him?"

"Of course," Mum said distractedly, hurrying across the landing to a large linen cabinet and withdrawing a set of sheets from the drawers that opened themselves helpfully.

"Mum," said Ginny, "Do you think—"

"You're not going anywhere, darling, and neither are your brothers," she answered immediately. Then she saw the pain in Ginny's face. "Don't you think I want to see them, too?" she asked. "But they're safer without us there."

"You mean _we're_ safer away from them!" Ginny retorted, flaring up furiously. "I'm not scared!"

"Ginny," Mum sighed, but she was already storming away. She slammed the door to her attic behind her. Then, she remembered her mother's request, seized a few pillows off the bed and out of the wardrobe, and tossed them into the hallway, sealing herself off with another slam of the door.

Sighing, Ginny went to her trunk, deposited Arnold in his cage on the windowsill, and withdrew her D.A. Galleon from the tangled folds of robes and books she had discarded after giving up trying to relax in her current situation. She had no message from Neville; this probably meant that the D.A. was in the midst of another midnight assault on the castle. She had very little idea as to how they were doing, but Neville's occasional reassuring message on the coin was enough to know that they were at least still staying safe. She had come to accept that no news was generally good news.

Still, it bothered her that it was getting late, and Neville had not sent her any kind of note. She flicked the Galleon onto her bedside table and dropped onto the bed, kicking moodily at a patch on the wall. A few flakes of paint chipped off, and she rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

"Ginevra!" called Aunt Muriel sharply from the next room over. "Stop that racket!"

Ginny sighed heavily. "Sorry, Auntie," she called.

"And don't yell in the house!"

She was too annoyed to even chuckle. She lay still for a long time, listening guiltily to the sounds of her mother picking up the pillows she had unceremoniously flung into the hallway. After nearly an hour, however, she had forgotten this, and was anxiously checking her Galleon every few minutes. Where was Neville?

Suddenly, from downstairs came the clanging of the doorbell. Unable to resist her desire to see Bill, Ginny rolled onto her feet and went out to the upper landing, where she heard her mother's high and anxious voice at the front door.

"Who's there?" she asked, pressing her ear to the wood.

"It's your eldest son, William Arthur Weasley, husband of Fleur Delacour for the last seven months, and when I was two years old I gave myself a bald spot when I got an Acid Pop stuck in my hair," called Bill's voice from outside. "I'm bringing Mr. Ollivander."

"Oh, Bill!" Mum cried, quickly opening the door. Ginny scurried down the stairs, just in time to see her father come hurtling into the foyer, wand drawn.

"It's him, Arthur," Mum said in a scandalized voice. "It's all right." Ginny's heart almost broke as she watched her father's face suddenly relax. He gave Bill a tight hug.

"Do come in, Mr. Ollivander, we've got everything ready for you," Mum was saying as she took the rather sickly-looking wandmaker by the arm. He looked awful; had he really been held prisoner since his abduction, Ginny wondered? "There's a lovely room down this way," she said, leading him away.

"Thank you, my dear," murmured Mr. Ollivander.

Ginny bounded down the rest of the stairs. "Bill!" she cried, leaping into her brother's arms. He caught her expertly in a warm hug.

"Hi, Gin," he said, giving her a kiss and setting her down.

"Bill?" Fred asked as he and George poked their heads over the upstairs banister.

"Hi," Bill called. "Come down here, I want to see you all, but then I need to get back to Fleur."

"Is everything all right?" Dad asked, frowning.

"Everything's fine," Bill promised. "I just want to say hi and catch up for a minute. I owe you an explanation." Ginny's heart leapt. "Come on, let's go in here," he said, gesturing to the downstairs sitting room. The twins came galloping down the stairs, four at a time, and Ginny hurried after Bill.

"Okay, sit down," Bill said, running his hands through his hair. The sitting room was only partly illuminated by the fire in the grate, so his scars were thrown into relief. Ginny winced slightly at the sight, but sat down on the arm of the sofa, putting her hand on Dad's shoulder. Bill sank down on the coffee table and Fred and George stood in the doorway. George chewed his lower lip anxiously.

"So," Bill said, as if he were trying to figure out where to begin. "I—uh…okay, look. The night I came to get you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just turned up at Shell Cottage. I didn't have the whole story that night, and they haven't said everything, but they, uh," he looked over his shoulder, trying to see if his mother was coming down the hall. "I think they were being held at Malfoy Manor," he said in a low voice. "It's headquarters—_his_ headquarters. I heard Ron mention something about the Malfoys, and Bellatrix Lestrange. It would fit."

Ginny felt a wave of dizziness hit her. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," Bill said quickly. "But when they turned up the night I came to get you at the Burrow, Harry and Ron were both hurt, and Hermione—again, I'm only guessing—but I think she'd been tortured."

Dad blanched, and both Fred and George swore. Ginny closed her eyes.

"That's not all," Bill pressed on. "They brought a house elf, too. He was a young one, but he'd been badly hurt, and he died at the house."

"Dobby," Ginny said softly, sadly. Fred, Dad, and George frowned at her, but she paid them no mind. She had heard of the house elf only a handful of times, but she knew that Harry had to be crushed. She had never wanted so badly to bridge this infinitesimal gap between them, to grab onto Bill as he Disapparated and go to find Harry.

Bill nodded and continued. "Mr. Ollivander was with them, and an injured goblin, plus two more Hogwarts students. Luna and Dean."

"They found Luna?" Ginny almost shrieked, getting to her feet. "_What? _She and Dean—they're alive?"

Bill smiled. "Yeah, Gin, they're fine, they're at the cottage."

"Oh, please let me go!" Ginny cried, looking between her father and brothers. "Just for a few minutes, Dad, please!"

"No, Ginny," Dad said in a tired voice, rubbing his face. "Calm down, no one's going anywhere."

"Yeah, Gin," Fred said warily, stepping forward and putting his hand on Ginny's arm. "Dad's right." She gaped at him. "They're only going to stay safe if we don't put more people near them. The house sounds like it's already too crowded."

Ginny made an exasperated noise, looking between Bill, Dad, Fred, and George. "Fine," she said angrily, when she realized that none of them were going to agree with her. She turned to Bill. "Just tell them—tell them I miss them," she said, her voice cracking on the last word, to her fury. With that, she stomped from the room, fuming.

"Ginny?" Mum asked as she returned from Mr. Ollivander's room, watching her daughter storm past. Ginny marched up the stairs, ignoring her. She met Aunt Muriel on the upper landing.

"Is that William?" she asked Ginny. "Does he have my tiara at last? I'll bet not, I knew that that French girl was far too fond of it—"

Ginny ignored her as well and strode through her door, slamming it behind her. She flopped onto the bed, feeling a hard, painful lump rise in her throat. Hermione, Ron, Dean, Luna, Harry—oh, Harry—all wounded, recovering, only miles away, but where she couldn't see them…Ginny screamed with anger into her pillow at the top of her voice.

Torture! They had tortured Hermione! Luna was probably as starved as Mr. Ollivander, and they would have killed Harry and Ron if they'd had the chance. Ginny sat down, her head spinning at the very thought of losing Harry. And Ron…they would have murdered her brother—that idea hit her hard, as if someone had struck her with a hammer. She couldn't imagine losing a brother. The very thought made her lightheaded with anger.

Ginny had never heard of Malfoy Manor in her life, nor did she know where it was or what it looked like. But now she knew what it was, and she knew that she would like nothing better than to see it burn to the ground. Draco Malfoy's face as he cursed her in that final Dark Arts lesson swam forward in her mind, and she pummeled her pillow, punishing it for all of his wrongs…for his involvement in killing Dumbledore…for his cruelty to Dumbledore's Army…for his cowardice…

And then Malfoy became Snape, and then the Carrows…until at last, Ginny collapsed on the bed, crying, hating herself even more for all the hate she felt towards them.


	21. Chapter 21

Okay! So just a refresher: this first section happens the night that the Weasleys leave the Burrow, around mid-March. Then we skip ahead to the **week after** Teddy is born (on April 4, according to me and only me haha) and proceed from there.

* * *

At first, Minerva was not entirely sure what caused her to wake up so fully at five o'clock in the morning. She was especially surprised because she had only managed to return to the castle from her visit to Hagrid's hiding place in the hills above Hogsmeade two hours earlier. It had not been an easy task, carrying the parcel of food in her Animagus form and sneaking through the hidden route beneath the Whomping Willow to the village and back, and she was exhausted.

So what, she wondered, could possibly have woken her? She lay quite still. Had she heard a noise? Was Dumbledore's Army on the move? No—no, they would not be back in the castle until the end of the week. Still, she had obviously heard something that had startled her out of sleep. She slipped out of bed, reaching for her dressing gown, and walked quietly to the hidden door that led from her bedroom to her office.

No noise came from the other side, but this did nothing to alleviate Minerva's worry.

In fact, she realized, she was becoming more alarmed by the moment. Instinct was telling her to light a candle, her wand, or something, but she couldn't bring herself to move from where she stood. What was wrong?

There was a sudden, echoing crack outside her window, across the grounds. Minerva breathed a sigh of relief; it was a thunderstorm, nothing more, and she must have heard the first thunderclap in her sleep. She crossed to the window to gaze out at the lake.

But…there were no rainclouds in the sky…the trees weren't swaying in the wind…and no fork of lightning appeared. She frowned, listening for more sounds of a storm.

Then, something out on the grounds caught her eye. The white tomb that stood alone on the shore of the lake…it looked somehow different. It looked misshapen, as though it had been crushed. She stared, straining her eyes, trying to figure out why the tomb looked suddenly different.

Minerva rubbed her eyes hard, and then suddenly recalled her spectacles. She fetched them quickly from her bedside table, and was hurrying to peer out the window at the tomb again, when there was a brilliant flash of blue light. She blinked and had the rather foolish thought that lightning was not blue.

Outside the window, the tomb was intact once more, and the grounds were silent in the pre-dawn light. Perhaps, in her half-asleep state, Minerva had dreamed the sight of the damaged grave? After all, she couldn't see a thing without her glasses…

But her hands shook too violently and she felt too nauseated to believe that what she had seen was some kind of hallucination. The sight, or even the idea, of Albus's grave being broken…there was something sinister in that…

Deciding at once, she tied her dressing gown and hurried out of her bedroom, through her office, and into the quiet, dimly lit corridor. She looked this way and that, assuring herself that she was alone; Pomona's rooms were on the floor below, so she set off quietly down the staircase.

"…Something I can help you with?"

"No, Severus, I think not. Can a former student not visit his school once again?"

Ice filled Minerva's veins, and she froze on the stair. That voice…that voice was terrifyingly familiar…barely human, it whispered and wove its way up the stairs to where she stood, coiling around her like a serpent…

"Of course, my Lord," said Snape's voice silkily. He was perhaps a flight below where Minerva now stood, but she could hear him clearly. "I only meant—well, it is, perhaps, an odd moment—"

"Lucius and his family are dealt with, for now," hissed Voldemort. "They have broken Lord Voldemort's trust, and they have paid the price. But now, I have matters that I wish to discuss with you…"

"Of course," Snape said again, and his voice was closer; they would round the banister and see Minerva at any moment. "My office is not far."

Minerva moved faster than she believed herself capable and tucked herself out of sight down the corridor, holding her breath, as though that would help. She heard the swish of cloaks, and a moment later, she chanced a look out from her hiding place.

There was no mistaking the tall, pale white figure that kept pace beside Snape as they disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the corridor. Severus had allowed Voldemort into the castle, where unsuspecting students, however few of them there were, lay sleeping and defenseless.

Her mind flew back to the sight she had thought she'd seen on the grounds: Albus's destroyed tomb. Voldemort had to be connected—but what was going on?

But she couldn't find out, now. Not while Voldemort himself was in the castle, much too close to her students. She checked once more to be sure that Snape was gone, and hurried down the corridor to Gryffindor Tower.

For the first time ever, when the few Gryffindors who had remained over their holiday rose the next morning, a tabby cat with square spectacle markings around her eyes sat rigidly on the window sill. She looked exhausted.

* * *

"I could kill them. I could kill them both. It was bound to happen one day…there are a _lot_ of poisonous plants in my greenhouses…it could just happen."

"Pomona, you are not going to poison them," Minerva said under her breath, pocketing the letter she had risen at the crack of dawn to retrieve from the Hogsmeade post office. She had only just returned in time to sit down at the staff table for breakfast.

"And why not?" Pomona asked indignantly, pointing her fork viciously at Alecto Carrow, who was patrolling up and down the eerily silent house tables full of students. Her brother was absent; presumably, he was preparing for another day of Dark Arts lessons. The thought made Minerva's stomach churn.

"Because shocking as it may be, they are still people," Minerva answered, "and _we_ are the people who don't kill other people."

Pomona made a grumbling noise and returned to her eggs. "Who's your letter from?"

"Longbottom!"

The shout had echoed across the Great Hall. "Not again," Minerva groaned. "What is it this time?"

"Yes, Professor?" Neville Longbottom stood at the Gryffindor table, facing Alecto.

"What d'ye think yer doin'?" she asked viciously.

Longbottom gave a theatrical sigh. "Eating breakfast, I suppose, Professor."

Pomona gave a snort, and Minerva elbowed her.

"Looks ta me like you were havin' a meetin'," Alecto said dangerously, turning her glare on Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and Seamus Finnigan, who were seated around Neville's place at the table.

"Am I the only one who doesn't think they can hear themselves speak?" Pomona asked, but Minerva was already on her feet and halfway down the aisle.

"Professor Carrow, really," she said, arriving and placing herself between Longbottom and Alecto. "May we not have _one_ peaceful meal, or must every day include a student being forced to contend with your suspicious behavior?"

"Nose out, McGonagall," Alecto said nastily.

"Longbottom, I think you're late for Charms," said Minerva coolly, without removing her eyes from Alecto's. "Mr. Finnigan, ladies, you as well."

Alecto sneered unpleasantly as Minerva heard over her shoulder the sounds of the seventh-years quickly packing up and leaving the table.

"I'm head of discipline fer yer brats, Minerva," said Alecto, and Minerva felt a fleck of spit hit her cheek. "I wouldn't cross my path again, if I were you."

"Yes, using illegal curses on a colleague," Minerva said slowly in an undertone, turning her back on some eavesdropping second years, "That certainly is a line I know you would hate to cross. Although I seem to remember…yes, I believe the headmaster was quite displeased the last time you attacked me. I don't believe even _he_ would let it happen again, do you?"

Alecto turned an ugly, blotchy red, and Minerva turned on her heel, returning to the staff table.

"That's the sixth time this week that that's happened, not counting them beating him for mouthing off to her in class last week. You can't step in every time they go after Longbottom," Pomona told her. "What if they decide to curse you again?"

"Severus won't let that happen," Minerva muttered.

"Don't tell me you still trust—?"

"It's not trust, Pomona, as you very well know," she interrupted, perhaps a little too sharply. She still had not told Pomona what had happened that night, over three weeks ago, when she had seen Voldemort in the castle. "He knows I'm more of a threat outside this school than trapped here. He won't let them drive me out."

"And _I_ know that I don't want to send for St. Mungo's in the dead of night ever again," said Pomona firmly.

"It won't come to that," Minerva promised, standing up. "I have a lesson."

"Come down to the greenhouses later and let me know you're all right," said Pomona. Minerva nodded once and continued out of the Great Hall.

The Easter holidays had led, like the winter holidays, to a huge loss of student population; Minerva was down to only two prefects in Gryffindor. Less than three months left to this wretched school year, she thought, and then, perhaps, she would be free to commit herself to the Order once again.

Remus Lupin had insisted on multiple occasions that she remain in her post at Hogwarts. She had agreed wholeheartedly, especially when she began to witness the lengths to which Amycus and Alecto Carrow were willing to go to maintain their stranglehold on the students and staff, but now that Remus, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and so many others had been forced into hiding…Minerva was less certain.

She thought sadly of Hagrid, who was still hiding in the hills above Hogsmeade. That morning, in addition to retrieving her letter from the post office, she had been delivering Hagrid another package of food from the kitchen, though it was not much—she was not as capable of carrying heavy loads in her Animagus form.

Still, he seemed glad to be away from the Carrows' tyranny, and Minerva could not blame him. They had been cruel, going so far as to ban him from the castle. It would have made Albus sick.

She arrived at her classroom, where her sixth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors stood in two silent lines outside the door. Automatically, Minerva looked for the brilliant red of Ginny Weasley's hair, and had to remind herself that she was among the many who had not returned from the holidays. It was odd, having no more Weasleys at Hogwarts. At least one, usually more, had been under her nose for the last fifteen years. She made a mental note to ask Remus what, precisely, had happened, the next time she saw him—all she had heard was that the Weasleys had become targets of the Ministry.

"In you go," she ordered, flicking her wand. The classroom door swung open, and the students filed in silently.

"HOW DID YE DO IT?"

"Oh, no," Minerva cursed under her breath. She hurried over to the staircase, where she could see onto the landing above. Her class followed, whispering and chattering. In the corridor above, Amycus Carrow had a student—Michael Corner—by the arm, which he was twisting painfully.

"HOW DID YE GET IN, YE NASTY LITTLE SQUIT?" he bellowed. "BROKEN INTER A TEACHER'S CLASSROOM, THAT'S A BEATIN' THERE, INNIT?"

"Professor Carrow!" Minerva shouted, dashing up the steps. "What is the—" And then she saw it. Longbottom and the others had painted an enormous phoenix on the wall of Amycus Carrow's classroom. How had they gotten in? "Corner!" she barked. "Get to your lesson immediately. Professor Carrow—"

"You bleedin' ol' hag, I'll have yer—"

"That is _enough_," Minerva spat. "May I remind you that without concrete evidence of Mr. Corner's guilt, you have no right to punish him?"

"You know as well as we do jus' who's behind it all!" Amycus yelled.

"I know no such thing," she answered coolly. "And neither do you."

He made a noise like a furious animal, but rounded on his class of third years, who were gathered timidly in the corner. "Get in, on with ye!" he shouted, and they all scurried into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Amycus threw Minerva one last filthy look before slamming the door behind him.

Minerva sighed heavily and faced her own students, still standing on the lower landing. "In the classroom, please, quickly." She shut the door behind her as she entered after them. "You've all got homework for me, don't think I've forgotten…"

It was with an aching body and mind that Minerva retired to the staff lounge that afternoon. She had skipped lunch, unwilling to entangle herself, once again, with either Alecto or Amycus Carrow, and was seriously regretting the decision; lack of food had given her a dreadful headache.

With hours until dinner and no ability left to focus on grading second year essays, she had decided to find Pomona, choosing to look first in the staffroom.

"Oh, what a day," she groaned, for no sooner had she opened the door than both of the Carrows, who were seated at the long table in the center of the room, whipped about to stare at her. "I was just leaving," she assured them.

"Headmaster wants ter see ye," Amycus grunted.

"I beg your pardon, Professor?" Minerva asked in a long-suffering voice.

"Snape, he wants ter see ye," he retorted, flaring up angrily. "And I'd get to his office if it was me."

"I don't reckon ye'll be too happy," Alecto gloated, grinning evilly. "Seein' as ye seem ta love Longbottom so much…"

It was these words that sent a prickle of fear up Minerva's spine, but she left the room without another word, hurrying down the corridor. She passed Pomona, who was just coming up a flight of stairs.

"I thought you were coming down to see me?" she asked, watching confusedly as Minerva raced past her.

"Have to—go!" Minerva called back, waving an apologetic hand. If something had happened to Longbottom, and Severus had sanctioned it…he could override her. For all their assumed titles, she still held enough power over the Carrows to scare them off when she had to…but if Snape had given them clear permission to hurt Neville, there would be nothing that she could do.

"_Pure-blood_," she said with distaste, and the gargoyle in front of the headmaster's office leapt aside. Snape could hardly have chosen a more inappropriate password, Minerva thought to herself as she ascended the steps, but then, he had always been fond of using such phrases to protect the Slytherin common room, as well. She knocked on the oaken door.

"Enter."

Minerva pushed open the door, but walked no more than a few paces into the room. She kept her eyes fixed on Severus, unable to look at the portrait hanging only a meter above his head. "You wished to see me, headmaster?"

"I did," Snape answered in a bored voice, flicking through the papers on his desk until he found what he was looking for. He held out an envelope, indicating that Minerva should come and retrieve it. "I require you to pass this on to Longbottom. You are his head of house, he will take the news best from you."

"Pardon me?" Minerva asked, taking the opened letter.

"It seems that Longbottom's grandmother has run afoul of our Ministry," Snape said in the same, toneless voice. "They have sent representatives to her home to apprehend her."

"_What_?" she gasped. She ripped the letter open, her hand shaking as she read. "This is addressed to _you_?" Minerva spat. "Why not Longbottom?"

"I really couldn't say," Snape answered lazily.

"You—you ordered it, didn't you? You've been setting your dogs on him for three weeks, and I—I've been stepping in—so you sent Aurors after Augusta Longbottom?" said Minerva. She was beginning to understand, now. "You can't get to him here, so…"

"Perhaps you'll remember this, the next time you wish to undermine your colleagues' authority in front of the students," Snape said, rising at last. He had lost his bored demeanor, and glared fiercely at her. "Inform Longbottom that his grandmother is being taken to Azkaban, or I shall do it for you."

Minerva stared at him for a long moment. "How could you?" she asked at last, her voice shaking. "I have seen you do a great many things, Severus, which have appalled me, but this…Augusta is all the boy has. You know that."

"Longbottom's behavior has been unacceptable. If he and his cohorts wish to carry on in the manner to which they have grown accustomed, thanks to _you_ and the rest of this insubordinate staff, then they are going to bear the penalty," Snape answered coldly. "And it is thanks to you all that I will call an assembly of the students tomorrow morning, before breakfast, to discuss further changes to our disciplinary policies. All faculty and staff are to be present. The time has come for this staff to provide Professor Carrow with the support he and his sister deserve in their efforts to put down misbehavior." There was a long stretch of silence, where they simply stared hatefully at each other. "You are dismissed."

Minerva marched out of the room without another word, her mind reeling. She still held the letter in her hand, but how could she deliver this kind of news?

"Are you all right?"

She looked up, startled, and saw Pomona, who was staring at her with deep concern. Without realizing it, she had come to a stop in the middle of the corridor outside her own office.

"Minerva, are you all right?" Pomona asked again.

Mutely, Minerva held out the letter, and Pomona took it. Her eyes narrowed as she read, until at last she folded it and placed it back in Minerva's hand.

"Come on," she said sharply, seizing Minerva's wrist and half-dragging her into her office. She slammed the door and locked it.

Out of habit, Minerva walked numbly to sit behind her desk, though she was scarcely aware of what she was doing. Her ears were ringing with the shock of what she had to do.

"They want to make him stop," Pomona said in a low voice, pointing at the letter Minerva held. She nodded. "Well, they've certainly found a novel way of doing it." She was turning steadily scarlet.

Minerva pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyelids, heaving a sigh. "This is all my fault."

"You stopped them from punishing him," Pomona told her. "Augusta would thank you."

"Augusta is halfway to Azkaban because I refused to let him be punished."

"Listen to yourself!" Pomona snapped. "You wouldn't let them use the Cruciatus Curse on a boy who has lost both of his parents to it! What was it you said, when Poppy was scraping you off the floor of the upstairs corridor? What was it, Minerva?"

"'Better I than them,'" she mumbled.

"Better you, than your students," Pomona said. "And as angry as I was that you got yourself half-killed _again_, anyone but those monsters that have been let into the castle would agree with you, including me. Augusta would rather sacrifice herself than lose Neville."

"You're right, but I don't feel any better about it," Minerva sighed, after a long moment. She looked around, as though expecting an answer to come flying out at her. "What time is it? Where is Longbottom?"

Pomona sighed and looked at her watch. "I expect they're all going down to dinner. I'll bring him up here. You need to collect yourself, or he's going to think the worst." Before Minerva could protest, she was gone.

The seconds ticked by; the clock that sat on her desk seemed louder than usual. Minerva put one hand down the collar of her robes and nervously twisted her wedding band on the chain that hung around her neck. She reread the letter from some underling in the Minister's office, addressed to Snape, twice.

_Confirmation of subversive activity or support thereof…authorities will be dispatched…suspect shall be held in Azkaban prison pending a trial date…advise next of kin…_

It was then that Minerva caught sight of the signature at the bottom of the page, smudged, as though the person writing it had been in great haste…or had a desire to hide their name. She squinted, holding the parchment directly underneath the lamp on her desk.

P-something…I-something…was that a letter N, or a W? Minerva's heart sank. The letter was from Percy Weasley. Anger, frustration, unhappiness, and pity filled her all at once. Percy was misguided, too driven by his desire to be the best, and now he had gotten himself into something that was much larger than anything he could handle.

She had given him the recommendation he needed to start in Barty Crouch's office, and she had been horrified to see how it had gone. Her shock was compounded when he began to associate himself with Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge over his own family; it was only too well that Minerva recalled sitting in Sirius Black's basement kitchen, trying to soothe Molly Weasley when she failed to reach out to Percy.

But she also recalled waking up in St. Mungo's, one June morning, to find a bouquet of scarlet and gold roses without a card. At the time, she had thought they had come from Albus, but he had denied the gesture. It was then that she began to suspect someone else entirely.

So Minerva knew, as she was sure his family must know, that there was nothing bad in Percy. Prideful, a bit arrogant, and far closer in temperament to his twin brothers than he would ever admit, he nonetheless believed nothing of what the Ministry now stood for.

And if she were honest, if she had the chance, Minerva would want to congratulate him on remaining sensible enough to avoid being thrown in Azkaban himself, or worse. She took heart in the idea of being able to at least relay the message to Molly and Arthur, through Remus or Kingsley perhaps, that Percy was alive and well.

There was a knock on the door.

She drew a deep breath, turning the letter facedown on the table. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Neville poked his face in. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Come in, Longbottom," she said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. He folded himself into the seat; he was quite a bit taller than the boy Minerva was remembering in the exact same chair, the one who had nearly burst into tears when she asked what sort of career options he was interested in pursuing.

"I've been asked to—well, to tell you something," she said, folding her hands tightly together so as to stop them from shaking. "I'm afraid—I'm afraid your grandmother has…well, she's been taken to prison."

Neville stared back at her. He seemed to have frozen solid.

Minerva carried, on, because she could not stand the silence. She began repeating bits of the letter, just to have something to say. "I understand that—she—she may have been tied to illegal activities, and—"

"No, Professor," Neville answered. "It wasn't her. It was me." He stood up, looking confused. "Thank you—for telling me. And for this morning. Just—thanks."

"Longbottom," she called sharply. He stopped, his hand on the door. "I think you know what your grandmother might want from you, now. It may encourage you to know that…well, many of us agree with her."

Neville turned and looked back at her, and his eyes looked rather wet. "Thanks, Professor. I know." He gave a hearty sniff and hurried out of the office.

Minerva brought her folded hands up to rest under her chin and closed her eyes, which were burning painfully. She heard the door open and drew a deep, calming breath. "Come in, Pomona."

"Will he be all right?" she asked softly.

Minerva nodded, opening her eyes again. Pomona sat down in the chair Neville had just vacated. "He's getting ready to send out Dumbledore's Army again."

Pomona smiled sadly. "That really is a spectacular name, you know."

Minerva nodded, getting up to gaze out of her small window at the grounds, glowing crimson in the setting sun. "Maybe one of these days, we'll get a chance to ask Potter where he got it."

"Who wrote to you this morning, Minerva?"

"What?" She turned, frowning. "Wrote to me?"

"You were trying to read a letter, when all of this started," Pomona said. "Who was it from?"

"Oh." Minerva placed a hand in her pocket. Sure enough, the letter that she had gone all the way down to Hogsmeade to retrieve lay forgotten there. She pulled it out and slit it open with her wand. The note was from Remus Lupin, undoubtedly arranging their next date to meet in Hogsmeade.

"What's this?" Pomona asked, bending forward to pick something up that had fluttered out of the envelope to the floor. "It's a photograph…oh, _Minerva_."

"She's had the baby," Minerva managed to say, before the painful lump in her throat caused her to well up with tears.

"She looks beautiful," Pomona said, bringing the picture to Minerva. A snoozing baby with a tuft of green hair and very chubby cheeks lay wrapped in a blanket in his mother's arms beneath a large walnut tree in a garden. Tonks was beaming, her own hair a matching shade of green as she laughed, embraced by Remus, who looked once again like the teenage boy Minerva always remembered…

"His name's Teddy," said Pomona, looking at Lupin's note. She put a hand over her heart. "Oh, I'd cancel retirement just to get that one in Hufflepuff. What's another twelve years, eh?"

"Don't bank on it," Minerva answered in a watery voice. "He looks like a Gryffindor to me."

"In that case, we had both better be here, don't you think?" Pomona smiled tremulously at her.

Minerva didn't look up from the photograph she still held. "Absolutely."


	22. Chapter 22

Had Minerva known beforehand the impact that her words had on Neville, she would never have spoken them, for Severus was as bad as his word. The next morning, as students filed into the Great Hall, they were shocked to find that their House tables were gone; the hall was empty, and the faculty stood in a grim-faced line on the raised platform at the front of the room.

The first bunch to arrive were Hufflepuffs, so Pomona stepped down (at Snape's direction) and chivvied them quickly into regimental lines, shoulder to shoulder. Minerva did the same with the first group of Gryffindors, Filius with the Ravenclaws, and Horace with the Slytherins. Soon the entire school stood at attention. Minerva had been the one who designed this assembly as a means of giving out announcements and evacuating the students, when she had been sure that she would have to close down Hogwarts nearly five years ago.

At the time it had seemed practical, but now the sight sickened her, and she was grateful that she had never been the one to implement it. The students, all the way down to the smallest first years, looked like soldiers being marched into a war. Though they had received no instruction to be silent or still, none of them spoke, and kept their wary and frightened gazes on Snape, standing only a few feet away from Minerva, who had rejoined the line of faculty between Horace and Alecto Carrow.

"Nice kids," Alecto muttered, and Minerva resisted an urge to seize her by the throat.

Severus cleared his throat and stepped forward. "There is a reason that you are not sitting at a meal right now, enjoying the company of your classmates and preparing for your day's lessons, and it is quite a simple one. There is a canker in our midst. It is self-serving, conniving, and holds no regard for you or your safety."

Confused stares were flickering back and forth across the hall at these words, but Minerva could see several older students towards the back who were standing rigid, staring elsewhere. Neville Longbottom had not removed his gaze from the enchanted ceiling showing the pale blue sky outside in several minutes.

"This…clique, this faction of students you all know—some of you may even know who they are," Snape was saying, "They are deliberately endangering your wellbeing here at Hogwarts." He swept a black-robed arm back to where Amycus and Alecto stood side by side. "Your professors have no real wish to harm you. But when cowardly behavior like anonymous acts of vandalism lead them not to one sure culprit, but many possible ones…they are left with no choice. They are bound by their duty to protect the good of all of the students, and so must punish those whom they can only believe to be guilty."

Minerva felt lightheaded and sick. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Pomona on Filius's other side, digging her fingers into his arm.

"Starting today," Severus said loudly, "Anyone who is caught in rule-breaking will be automatically reported to Professor Carrow. Failure to do so by anyone on the staff will lead to severe consequences for that teacher. Furthermore, a detention is to be served as rapidly as Professor Carrow deems it; should you be caught in any wrongdoing, your punishment will be correspondingly severe and carried out instantaneously."

Minerva could not stop a gasp, but it was covered up as for the first time, muttering broke out among the students. She understood what Snape wanted…

"This is in order to determine who our true troublemakers are," he continued coldly, talking over the whispers, which abated quickly. "If you have nothing to hide that might get you into trouble, then you have no reason to fear these stricter measures. However," he added, and his black eyes swept to the back of the room, where Longbottom stood with Seamus Finnigan. "Should you, for instance…be caught out of bounds after curfew…speak out of turn…or anything else that might come to mind…you will bear the marks of your crime and serve as an example for those who might follow you."

"What the bloody _hell_ does that mean?"

Seamus could very easily have been joking, trying to irritate Snape, and though there were a few nervous titters of laughter, Minerva knew he was not. She had thought precisely the same thing.

Snape merely looked bored. He raised one hand and waved it. The Carrows hurried eagerly to the back of the Gryffindor lines. "It means, Mr. Finnigan, that you are about to show us all what happens when you disrupt an assembly, and that from now on, any faculty member—" here he glanced at Minerva coldly, "—who undermines the disciplinary measures in place will be reprimanded just as severely."

Amycus and Alecto dragged Finnigan to the front of the hall, each holding onto one of his arms. Alecto snatched his wand from his pocket and stepped back to join her brother, who raised his own wand. Minerva tensed, feeling sick…she knew what had to be coming…

In a flash of bright light, Finnigan gave a horrible yell of pain and collapsed to his knees, clutching a hand over his face. A deep gash gushed blood over his fingers, and cries of shock and fright echoed around the room. There was a second flash of light, and Finnigan doubled over, groaning, his hands covering another wound on the same cheek, pouring even more blood.

Automatically, Minerva made to step forward, but Horace caught her arm. "Not now," he muttered. "Now is not the time."

Minerva was too horrified to even formulate a response, and Snape was already striding forward. He seized the collar of Finnigan's robes and hoisted him to his feet. With a wave of his wand, the bleeding stopped, though the deep slashes across the boy's face remained. With another lazy flick, Severus conjured a handkerchief and tossed it at Finnigan, who ruefully blotted away some of the blood, wincing.

"Back to your House," Snape spat at him. Finnigan snatched his wand back from Alecto and trudged off. "Anyone—_anyone_—who is punished from now on will be punished in such a manner. Healing," he added, turning to face Poppy Pomfrey, who stood at the end of the line of faculty, far from Minerva, "Is no longer necessary or welcome." She looked stricken. "Perhaps those of you who would think of putting themselves before the wellbeing of others will now think twice if you bear the consequences of your actions. Is that understood?"

There was silence in the hall, and Minerva could hardly blame the students' for the fear that seemed to radiate from them in great waves. She felt horrible. Just like Augusta, this was her fault…she had been the most vocal, the most stalwartly against the Carrows and their cruelty, and now she was reaping what she had sown.

"You are all dismissed. Go to your lessons," Snape said, and Minerva looked at him, startled that he had denied the students breakfast. Then she realized that it was a test; he wanted to see if Finnigan, Longbottom, or anyone else was going to speak up. No one did.

Or, so she thought.

That afternoon, Minerva walked in the open door of the greenhouse, and heard the ceramic _clink_ of a pot being struck with a spade. "Pomona? Where are you?"

"Near the Flutterby seedlings," came Pomona's harsh response. Minerva proceeded down the long tables and rounded a corner. Pomona stood before her worktable, shoveling fertilizer into a large flowerpot that held a Mandrake. She looked extremely irritated.

"You didn't walk your seventh years to my classroom," Minerva said, keeping a safe distance. Pomona's shears were only inches from her hand. "I don't think Alecto or Amycus saw—"

"Hmf," Pomona huffed through her nose. "Could that be because the students are seventeen years old and fully capable of looking after themselves? I had other matters to attend to, Minerva. Thank you for your trouble."

"'Thank you for your trouble?'" Minerva repeated. "What on earth—"

Pomona looked up, letting her spade fall with a clatter. She pointed to an open door to a smaller room of the greenhouse, and Minerva took it to mean that she was meant to go there. Warily, she walked to the doorway. Two students occupied it; Hannah Abbott was leaning over Neville Longbottom, touching a bit of some plant extract to an enormous gash across his face. Her expression was tender as she spoke soothingly to Neville, whose round face was screwed up in pain.

Minerva sighed, and Hannah started, flushing bright pink as she whirled around. "Professor McGonagall!" she spluttered. "I—I'm sorry—"

"As far as I know, Miss Abbott, you aren't missing a lesson," Minerva said. It was true; like Longbottom, Hannah Abbott had not continued with Transfiguration after her O.W.L. year. "Although I would advise you both against remaining anywhere that could be considered out of bounds during your free periods."

"Yes, Professor," Neville said. He had risen, and Minerva could see the open wound on his cheek, horrible and deep, as well as a great deal of caked, dried blood on his collar.

"Longbottom," she said, unable to stop herself as he and Hannah hurried to leave the little room. He turned and looked at her. "What—what ever did you do?"

Neville and Hannah shared a glance. "Just a question about…blood status. In Muggle Studies, Professor," he said, though the slight tremble in his voice betrayed his anger.

Minerva closed her eyes for a moment. "For your own sake, Longbottom, do try not to let it happen again." Neville gave a grimace.

"I haven't got a lot left to lose, Professor," he answered. Without another word, he left Minerva alone in the room. She was still staring after Hannah Abbott when Pomona's gloomy face appeared in the doorway.

"I figured they would have a harder time tracking any healing to me," she said. "He was bleeding badly when he arrived, so I let Abbott tend to him."

"He thinks he has nothing to lose," Minerva whispered in a strangled voice. She leaned back against a table full of ceramic pots for support.

"I heard," Pomona said, sounding quite as disturbed as Minerva felt. "And it's only the first day of these lovely new rules."

"Nothing to lose," Minerva repeated. "He's seventeen, and he thinks he's got nothing left." Involuntarily, she gave a helpless, humorless laugh.

"He's lost his mother and father to worse than death, and now his grandmother," Pomona said. "I can't blame him in the slightest." Minerva stared at her. "He _is_ wrong," she continued, "but I don't blame him for thinking it."

Suddenly, without realizing what she was doing, Minerva picked up one of the small, empty pots sitting on the tabletop and hurled it at the ground. It burst into pieces. "_Why can't we stop this? Why can't anybody—just—do—something?_" She punctuated each word with a stomp on the shards of the pot, and then was suddenly jolted back to reality. "Oh—oh, Pomona, I'm sorry…"

Pomona lifted her eyebrows and said, "It's been a few years since I've seen that side of you." She raised her wand and flicked it. The broken pot mended itself at once, leaping into her hands. "Nice as it is to see you so firmly resolved, Minerva, try and refrain from destroying my greenhouses."

"Resolved?" Minerva asked.

"You've been the middle ground between the Carrows and Longbottom for too long," Pomona said sharply. "I kept warning you, you were in more danger trying to stop the fighting than just picking a side and staying there. Now you've listened." She held up the pot and placed it back on the table. "So stay on that side. Stop trying to block their paths to each other, because you're only making the Carrows more desperate to hurt him, and putting yourself in danger, as well."

Pomona looked down at her watch. "My next class is coming. I'll see you later, Minerva. Get yourself a cup of tea," she added bracingly, placing her hands on Minerva's upper arms and steering her through the greenhouse.

In later years, Minerva would never remember a worse time at Hogwarts, from the day that Lily and James Potter had died, to the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, to the aftermath of Cedric Diggory's death. Nothing that she and Albus had weathered with their contingent of loyal colleagues had ever prepared her to see the things she saw in the next seven days.

Students regularly appeared in her classroom bearing brutal scars and half-healed wounds across their faces, necks, and arms. Some limped in, holding ribs and nursing limbs, and Minerva suspected that they were also being used as practice targets for the Cruciatus Curse in Amycus's lessons. She also heard a piece of gossip that made her feel faint—three first years had been flung down a staircase for being late to Muggle Studies.

Dumbledore's Army made no movement that week, not that they needed to. They had practically moved out into the open, for the members were those students who were punished most frequently by the Carrows.

Within a couple of days, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Parvati Patil, and Lavender Brown all bore the worst of the marks. Minerva saw them together at meal times, holding cold goblets of pumpkin juice to their bruises and looking furtively around through puffy, swollen eyes.

She heard things from Pomona and from her students, about how Neville had insulted Amycus Carrow's bloodline, or Seamus had refused to torture a second year serving detention in Dark Arts. Proud Minerva might be of their conviction, but it was too much to bear to see them all suffering so horribly and be unable to stop it. She was grateful for the weekend. She could visit Hagrid in Hogsmeade, perhaps get a letter off to Remus or Kingsley, and best of all, the students could have just a few days to rest and heal before the onslaught began again.

Minerva was in the headmaster's office late on Saturday afternoon, providing a report of the previous day's staff meeting. "…Professor Trelawney is concerned that a 'cloud of evil' is hanging over the castle, and before you answer, she's been saying it for weeks, and I include it in my report only because I'm starting to agree…"

"You know, Minerva, when I request weekly summaries of the staff meeting, I do not require your personal take on the day's gossip," Snape cut her off irritably. "Perhaps that is the way that your interactions with the headmaster have gone in the past, but—"

"Then perhaps you could ask another of your colleagues to give the report?" Minerva interrupted, just as sharply. "I seem to recall that this is no longer my duty, as I do not hold the title of Deputy Headmistress. Am I correct?"

Snape stood with his back to her, his hands clasped firmly behind him as he stared out of the window in his office. He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Tell Professor Sinistra that if she encounters further issues with the dementors while she conducts her lessons on the parapets, I recommend a Patronus Charm, or a slightly more competent teacher who _can_ perform one to replace her." He turned and faced her. "And I should like you to make it clear to the staff that there are to be no exceptions made where punishment and detentions are concerned. I have seen far too many students just this week escape with warnings, when they ought to have been taken to Professor Carrow."

Minerva scowled, flicking her wand. The parchment she held disappeared at once. "Very well. If that's all, I'll be returning to my office now, headmaster. Good afternoon."

She strode to the door and opened it to reveal Amycus and Alecto Carrow, in the midst of a heated argument as they ascended the stairs.

"Out the way," Amycus growled, taking a swipe at Minerva, who sidestepped him. "Headmaster, we've got a problem."

"What is it now?" Snape asked in a bored voice.

"Er—" Alecto looked shiftily at Minerva. She did not move.

"Professor McGonagall, you were going to your office?" asked Snape impatiently.

"Nosy ol' bat," Amycus muttered as Minerva shut the door behind her. She stood for a moment on the spiral stairs…she would have a better chance of hearing if she just…but if Severus saw her…oh, well, her moment was dwindling fast.

With a small _pop_, Minerva was several feet shorter, and her senses had become a great deal more acute. She crouched low on her paws, flattening one ear to the crack of the door.

"…Do you mean, she escaped?"

"I mean we just got a letter, Snape, sayin' the ol' bag gave the Aurors the slip, and they only just figured it out when she didn't get to Azkaban!" Amycus whispered angrily. "She even put one of 'em in the hospital!"

"Now, look," Alecto interrupted. "We jus' need ter know what ter do abou' Longbottom."

"Stop all of his mail," Snape answered. "Don't bother reading it, anything he's sent, you're to burn it straight away."

"He's ringleadin' the little blighters, Snape, what about that, then?" Amycus demanded.

"What is it you would do, Amycus?" Snape asked disparagingly, and there was a beat of silence. Minerva strained her ears, listening closely.

"We want ter get him," he answered in a low voice. "Before McGonagall or any o' the others get a chance ter try an' save him."

"Get him," Severus repeated.

"Get him outta the school. We'll take _him_ ter Azkaban, if we have ta, or just ter Malfoy's house," Alecto said eagerly.

"The Malfoys' home is no longer secure, as you well know," Snape said firmly. "But very well. Arrange to remove Longbottom from the school. And do avoid your flair for the dramatic…"

Minerva didn't hear the Carrows' responses. She took off down the stairs and ran faster than she ever could in her human form, all the way to the Gryffindor common room, where she realized, suddenly, that she couldn't give the password to the Fat Lady.

With another _pop,_ she staggered upright, clutching a stitch in her chest. "_Filigree_," she panted, but before she could get the word out, the portrait hole swung open, and four bodies toppled out.

"C'mon, Neville!"

"Stop!" Minerva cried, looking down at the tangle of black robes. "Longbottom?"

"Professor!" he gasped, righting himself and scrambling to his feet. Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and Seamus Finnigan were still getting up. "No time to explain—gotta run!"

"Longbottom, no!" Minerva barked, catching his collar. "We need—we need to get you somewhere safe—come with—"

"How does she know?" Parvati asked in a frightened voice. "How do you know, Professor?"

"Know—what?" Minerva asked, nonplussed.

Longbottom held up a folded bit of parchment. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and his face was covered in several enormous gashes that were only just beginning to heal. "My gran escaped, Professor. She got away, she's on the run—but I've got to get away—"

"Professor Carrow is on his way," Minerva supplied. She looked at Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender, who all bore cuts and bruises as well. "Take him round the other way, to the Room of Requirement. Get him to safety, and then come straight back here when you're done. Don't run back," she added warningly. They all nodded once and took off running.

Minerva set off the way she had just come, keeping her eyes and ears open for sounds of the Carrows. Her heart was racing; Augusta had escaped, and she couldn't remember the last time happiness and utter terror had filled her so completely.

"Oi, McGonagall!" She looked up calmly. Amycus and Alecto had obviously just come puffing down the corridor. "You need ter let us into yer common room," Amycus said sharply.

Minerva arched an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"None o' yer business," Alecto snarled.

"I'm afraid it's against _your_ rules to let anyone except students and Heads of House into the common rooms, Professor," Minerva said coolly, enjoying the shade of scarlet that was filling Alecto's face. "Without good reason, of course."

"You rotten ol'—"

Minerva gave a dramatic sigh. "Really, Alecto, there is no need for name-calling. I will be happy to help you, but I should like to know why it is that you need access to the Gryffindor common room. I don't think Professor Snape would be very happy if I broke the school policies. Why, imagine if the two of you had ill intentions towards any of the students," she added. "I can't simply risk endangering any of them."

"Will you shut up an' take us ter Longbottom?" Amycus snapped.

"Longbottom?" Minerva repeated. She stared between him and Alecto, who was practically shaking with anger. It had been nearly ten minutes…surely she had delayed long enough… "Very well. Follow me."

Repressing a smirk, Minerva turned and walked slowly down the corridor. Just as they rounded the corner to the Fat Lady's portrait, she heard the telltale creak that meant the painting had just closed up. "_Filigree_," she said politely, and the Fat Lady smiled and gave a deep curtsy before she swung forward. "After you," she said to Amycus, but Alecto stopped him.

"If the brats have anything waitin' for us," she began, eyeing Minerva suspiciously.

"Oh, come now, Alecto," she said tiredly. "What reason could the students possibly have for hurting _you_?" Alecto glared unpleasantly at her. "Very well, I'll go first." She climbed through the portrait hole to the common room, where a number of students were gathered, sprawled lazily across the furniture as they did their homework. Several looked up, interested; Minerva rarely entered the common room when students were present.

Then, the atmosphere changed dramatically. The temperature could have fallen ten degrees. Students were sitting up, closing books, pointing and whispering worriedly as they saw Amycus and Alecto climbing ungracefully through the portrait hole after her.

"Oh, Professor!"

Parvati Patil ran over to Minerva, tears streaming down her face. "Professor, Neville's gone!"

"We can't find him anywhere," Seamus Finnigan said miserably, joining Parvati and placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. She turned and wept theatrically into his shoulder.

"Gone? What d'ye mean, gone?" Amycus demanded furiously.

Lavender Brown had hurried over. Minerva gave her a sharp look; she was out of breath, her hair rumpled. She reached up one hand and smoothed it as she said, "Seamus woke up this morning, and couldn't find him. We thought he was just in the library, but no one's seen him all day."

"His bed wasn't slept in, you can look," Seamus said earnestly to Minerva, who thought it best to forestall any invitations for the Carrows to delve further into Neville's disappearance. However, before she could say anything, both Alecto and Amycus gave cries of fury and shoved her aside. Amycus elbowed Seamus in the ribs as he followed his sister up the boys' dormitory steps.

For several tense minutes, the only sounds were scuffles and bangs—then there was a great clatter, and ten or so Gryffindor boys came tearing down the spiral staircase in fright.

"He ain't in the dormitory!" Alecto shouted as she led the way down to the common room, her wand aloft. She let off her feelings by aiming a Stinging Hex at Demelza Robins, who yelped and ran out of the way. Minerva repressed her urge to shout, instead placing herself in front of Demelza.

"Perhaps he hasn't gone far," she said icily, facing Amycus and Alecto, who were huffing and puffing angrily before her.

"He hasn't gone anywhere!" Amycus shouted. "The dementors woulda caught 'im if he'd left the grounds!"

"Neville produces a really good Patronus," Parvati said quickly. Her face was suspiciously dry again. "Better than you might think."

Amycus ground his teeth. "Lock down the castle and the grounds!" he bellowed. "Get them prefects huntin' with the staff! Longbottom ain't gettin' anywhere!"

"A manhunt, Professor Carrow?" Minerva asked. "You can't be serious—"

"An' you won't have anything ta do with it, McGonagall!" Alecto shrieked, rounding on her. "You an' yer brats here are hidin' Longbottom, an' we know it! Nobody leaves this tower, an' that's includin' you!"

Minerva stared coldly at her, her jaw tightening. "As you wish," she said at last. She turned and faced the Gryffindors, many of whom had crept down the dormitory staircases to see what all of the shouting was about. "As of right now, no one leaves Gryffindor Tower. Is that understood?"

There was a great collective murmur of, "Yes, Professor McGonagall."

She turned and faced the Carrows. "There you are. Good luck," she added coldly.

"C'mon," Amycus muttered, and he and Alecto stumped out of the portrait hole.

Minerva watched them go, trying to reassure herself that there was no way they could catch Longbottom, if he used the Room of Requirement correctly…and after spending so many months in it, how could he not?

"What about dinner?" whispered a small voice, bringing her back to reality. She turned and faced the Gryffindors, who were all looking very confused and upset. She looked at Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender, her three eldest students, and the only ones left in a class that had been dwindling by the month.

"Well," she said, "If anyone has any kind of food…maybe now is the time to share it. I will try to do what I can."

"Professor McGonagall, is Neville all right?" a little blond first year piped up. Josephine O'Brien stood near the stairs, with several of her classmates. She was barely as tall as the others, even standing a step above them.

Minerva looked again at Finnigan. "I'm sure that Mr. Longbottom is quite all right."

"Do we have to go to class on Monday?" asked Geoffrey Hooper interestedly.

"I should think so, Mr. Hooper, you owe me an essay," Minerva answered indignantly, and there was a ripple of laughter. "All right, all of you return to your activities," she advised, and the Gryffindors dispersed, returning either to their dormitories or to the chairs they had previously occupied.

Seamus Finnigan caught Minerva's eye and nodded, grinning, which she took to mean Neville's safety. Satisfied, at least for the moment, Minerva went to the window and stood beside it, trying to remain unobtrusive. The Gryffindors, most likely for the reason that they were effectively being held prisoner, were understandably cautious at her presence.

Outside the window, the sky was a swirling, stormy gray clotted with woolly clouds. There was the faintest break of pale yellow-white on the horizon, indicating that the sun had not quite set. Minerva heard quiet murmuring over her shoulder; the Gryffindors were casting surreptitious glances at her from beside the fireplace.

Once, Minerva had been one of them, she thought rather strangely. She had sat beside that fire in those armchairs, had seen Albus Dumbledore stand precisely where she stood, giving announcements and welcoming new students. He had seemed so adult compared to her, the new Captain of the Quidditch team and Head Girl to boot, and she had been so very frightened and wary of what the future held for her. Now she was the adult, and her students were watching her with that same wariness and fear.

Only now, they were not worried about exams. They were not worried about Quidditch, lessons, or even their careers. They were worried about their lives and the lives of those they loved. Minerva recalled her sister-in-law saying once that she must, occasionally, envy her students. And if she was honest, occasionally, she did. But at this moment, as she was held prisoner alongside them in Gryffindor Tower, she did not find them enviable at all.

Realizing that she had been staring at the Gryffindors grouped around the fire, Minerva turned her gaze out of the window once again. A fork of lightning split the sky and rain began to fall.

* * *

INTENSE MUSIC CUE.

Hehehe. We're getting closer and closer, people!


	23. Chapter 23

The hours stretched on, and Minerva watched the sky continue to darken. Every now and then she could see clouds of swarming dementors prowling the grounds, silhouetted against the rain. Just the same, every moment that neither Alecto nor Amycus appeared in the common room again made Minerva more certain that they were not going to catch Longbottom.

The Gryffindors were still anxiously giving her a wide berth; no one approached her in all the time she stood beside the window, even when she began to hear complaints of hunger. After a while, it became impossible to pretend that she was unaware that most of the common room was watching her with great interest.

Drawing her wand, Minerva conjured her Patronus and sent it streaking off to find Pomona, requesting news and assistance. She faced her students. "I suggest you all get ready for bed. I cannot promise anything in the way of a meal, yet."

Forlornly, the students trudged upstairs. The sight of Seamus Finnigan going up alone, now the last boy in his dormitory, was especially disheartening.

There was a sudden noise at the portrait hole, and Minerva turned to see several Gryffindor fourth years clambering through. They skidded to a stop before her, eyes wide and shocked, and a moment later, Pomona appeared behind them.

"Upstairs, all of you," Minerva said, waving them along. "Get ready for bed."

Without a word, Euan Abercrombie and his friends bolted off up the staircases, and Minerva turned to Pomona. "Where did they come from?"

"Horace found them in the library," Pomona whispered. "I hid them with my students in case the Carrows decided that perhaps they knew where Longbottom might be."

"Oh, thank you," Minerva replied gratefully. "What's going on out there?"

"Have you really been held in here all this time?"

She nodded.

"They're tearing the castle and grounds apart," Pomona said bluntly. "None of the students have eaten or been allowed to sleep, Severus has ordered more dementors and they're swooping everywhere—and Alecto keeps talking about taking you."

"Taking me?" Minerva repeated.

"Taking you to question you," said Pomona, biting her lip anxiously.

Minerva swallowed and pushed this aside. "Never mind about that. Is there some way to get them to stop?"

Pomona frowned, frustrated. "Short of handing them Longbottom, you mean?"

"No one is doing that," Minerva said firmly.

"You know where he is, then?" Pomona asked.

"He's safe," she promised. Then she lowered her voice. "Augusta got away, Pomona."

Pomona looked stunned. "What? She got away? _That's what all this is about?_"

"They were going to take him to Azkaban instead, but Augusta wrote a letter to warn him," Minerva told her.

"Is he still in the castle?" she asked.

Minerva hesitated for a moment, checking to be certain they were alone. "Yes," she said, "but we need to get him out if we can, he can't just stay here. When will they stop looking?"

Pomona sighed. "I think that eventually they'll have to believe he's left the grounds—but you're going to have to be very careful from now on. They're very, very unhappy with you and your house, Minerva."

She stared at Pomona, confused. "What kind of tone was that?"

"I'm not saying I'm not upset for you," she answered hastily. "I just…well, they don't seem to have accepted the possibility that there might be a few Hufflepuffs giving them trouble, too. They're making us help look for Neville, after all. But I'd say Macmillan and the others have been just as irritating."

Minerva couldn't stop an exasperated flicker of a smile. "You would find something like that, in a mess like this."

"Pride in my students is something I will always find," Pomona said gravely. "Anyway…I agree, we'll try and get Longbottom out as soon as we can, but I think there are some more immediate problems to deal with."

Minerva sighed. "I don't suppose you know of any way I can find something to eat for all of them?" She gestured to the dormitory staircases.

"And you, you look dead on your feet," Pomona answered. She looked out the window. "It's getting dark. They're bound to call off the search soon. If no one comes for you, I'll send a house elf or two to help."

"Thank you," Minerva said earnestly. "And thank you for taking care of those last few," she added, nodding to the staircases where the stray Gryffindors had disappeared. "I don't know what's going to happen now, but…"

"Don't worry, Severus has to let you out to teach," Pomona replied. "Otherwise he would have to actually spend time with the students." She mimed holding a bottle of smelling salts beneath her nose and fanning herself. "Can you imagine?"

"Not really," Minerva admitted.

"I've got to get back before they notice I'm gone," Pomona said. "I'll help you if I can." She hugged Minerva suddenly. "Don't be worried."

"We are far past that," she answered gently. She bid goodbye and watched as Pomona left the common room again. Before long, pajama-clad Gryffindors began to creep downstairs again, filling seats and taking up spots on the floor, looking expectantly at Minerva as though she had called them to an assembly.

When she realized, to some surprise, that she faced her entire house, and it was as though she were seeing for the first time just how many students she had lost this year. She stepped forward into the firelight.

"You've all been very patient," she said. "Thank you. Professor Sprout and the rest of the faculty are trying to help us. When Professor Snape decides to call off the search for Mr. Longbottom, I will try to find a way to bring something in the way of dinner up here for you."

"They're not going to find him!" said Euan Abercrombie. "They don't have a chance, they haven't caught Neville all year!"

"Are we going to be stuck up here forever, then?" asked a freckled first year boy.

"No, Mr. Wallace, we are not," Minerva said calmly, throwing Abercrombie a quelling look. "It is only Saturday evening. Professor Snape—"

"He thinks he can stop Dumbledore's Army, but he's wrong," said Josephine O'Brien fiercely. "He can't stop us!"

Several students sniggered at this, and Minerva had to repress an exasperated sigh. "Miss O'Brien, really."

"Well, she's got a point, Professor," said Seamus Finnigan from the back corner of the room a slightly smug grin on his wounded and bruised face. "They're getting desperate, don't you think?"

Minerva gave him a pointed look. "We are not discussing the group that calls themselves Dumbledore's Army—"

"Why not? Professor, you know they're real, and you know they're good!" Evelyn Alistair said. "Maybe they're against the rules, but if the rules are wrong, then who cares? We should all be supporting them." She looked around at the first years seated around her. "We do support them. And we support Harry Potter, too. Who cares about dinner if we're really doing something important?"

There was an outbreak of applause, and Minerva stared at the girl who had barely spoken ten words in her Transfiguration lessons all year.

"That's the reason we're locked up here, and everyone else is out there, isn't it?" Evelyn asked. "We support Harry Potter, and Professor Snape is scared of us, because he knows we're right, and he's wrong!"

There was more applause, punctuated with cries of agreement.

"Professor McGonagall, you support Harry Potter and Dumbledore's Army too, don't you?" Josephine continued, stepping up beside Evelyn. "You don't need to pretend to back up the Carrows' rules just because you're a teacher, at least not around us. You can be honest with us. We're being honest with you."

Dozens of pairs of eyes swiveled to gaze at Minerva, who was thoroughly taken aback. She looked first at the youngest students, who had no idea what it was they were saying or what they had gotten into, and then to her three eldest Gryffindors. Parvati Patil looked as though she had tears in her eyes.

"The truth is," she said, her voice cracking traitorously, "The truth is that…I am very proud of all of you, and your conduct in this very difficult year. And there will never be a time when I do not support one of my students." A murmur of happiness fluttered around the room as grins were exchanged. Minerva was aware of Finnigan's eyes still resting on her.

She was saved from further speech, however, by a loud _crack_, and whirled around. Four house elves, bearing a huge platter of sandwiches, goblets, and jugs of pumpkin juice, had appeared in the center of the common room.

"We have house elves here?" asked a shocked voice near the back of the room, and the other Gryffindors laughed.

"We is bringing food and drink, Madam Professor," one elf squeaked, as the four of them heaved the plate onto a nearby table. "We has special permission from Headmaster Snape, ma'am, we has. We is given orders to give food to the Houses separately, Madam Professor."

"Th-thank you," Minerva said, and the elves bowed deeply, beaming, before they disappeared with another _crack_.

"Hang on."

Minerva looked around to see Seamus restraining Carmichael Wallace from leaping upon the platter of food. He looked at Minerva seriously. "Is it all right?"

With a sickening lurch of her heart, Minerva saw in her students' faces what they had come to expect after this long, horrible year, during which many of them had been tortured, and nearly all of them bore cuts from the Carrows' newest punishments. Nonetheless, she put on a severe frown.

"No harm will come to you from any of this," she promised. "Eat, please, and go to bed." There was a collective, relieved sigh, and she stepped out of the way, allowing the Gryffindors to fall upon their dinner together. At that moment, the portrait hole opened, and Pomona reappeared.

"I see the elves found you," she said. "I was coming to tell you that—well, that it was all right to eat. We were all given the same platters." Minerva nodded sadly, reading her own feelings mirrored in Pomona's face. "And there's something else…"

Minerva stared at her. "I'm wanted in the headmaster's office?" Pomona nodded, looking terribly frightened, and she drew a deep breath. "Very well." She took another look at the Gryffindors, who were laughing and chattering together as they ate their fill.

She put a hand on Pomona's arm. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You know how angry I am when you break our appointments," Pomona said lightly, though every ounce of her fear was visible on her face.

"I don't recall ever doing that to you," Minerva answered conversationally, leading the way to the portrait hole and allowing Pomona to exit first. She gave a brief nod to Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, who were seated nearest the portrait hole, and they smiled tentatively.

Minerva walked briskly through the corridors to the gargoyle, Pomona directly beside her.

"I won't go up," she said nervously, as Minerva gave the password and the gargoyle leapt aside. "But I'll—well, just come down to my office when you're done."

"I'll do my best," Minerva said gently. She gave a tight half-smile that probably more closely resembled a grimace, and ascended the spiral steps. She knocked only once before the door was ripped open. Alecto, disheveled and fuming, snarled up at her.

"Ah, Minerva," said Severus. He stood behind his desk, where Amycus was also waiting, looking very sour. "Show her in, Alecto."

With a grunt, Alecto moved aside. For the first time in quite a while, Minerva raised her eyes to Albus's portrait. He was watching the scene serenely, and did not seem to notice her gaze.

Severus began, "Minerva, we have conducted our search—"

"That don't mean we're finished," Amycus grumbled.

"We have conducted our search for Mr. Longbottom to the best of our ability this evening," Severus said, without removing his eyes from hers. He looked positively furious, so that his polite tone was quite unnerving for Minerva. "I would like you to tell your students that they are expected to attend lessons as usual beginning Monday morning. However," he added, when she betrayed just a hint of relief, "I must make two things very plain. First, that Gryffindor Tower is now officially locked, and its inhabitants are banned from leaving their dormitories and common room except for classes and meals."

"Headmaster," Minerva gasped, but Severus continued.

"Alecto and Amycus will see to it that these rules are held in effect," he said, with a courteous nod to the Carrows. Minerva tried very hard not to gape at him. "Second, we have reason to believe that Longbottom may still be hiding in the school."

Minerva's stomach twisted. Snape knew about the Room of Requirement—of course he did, his pet student had barely left it all last year…

His black eyes glittered maliciously. "It should be clear to you, Minerva, that if you, another staff member, or any other student are found aiding Mr. Longbottom with knowledge of his whereabouts, you will be considered enemies of Hogwarts, and will be dealt with in a manner appropriate to the seriousness of your crime."

"Dealt with," Minerva spat, cutting across him as her anger boiled over. "Like your friends dealt with that poor Lovegood girl? Like _you_ dealt with George Weasley?" She was quickly losing her temper. "How you can live with yourself, Severus, doing the things you have done to people whom you supposedly support is something I will never begin to understand!"

He had gone very white. "Longbottom is now your priority. Make no mistake, if you or anyone else is concealing him, punishment will be swift and severe," he said, his voice shaking with suppressed rage.

"You are talking about a teenaged boy!" Minerva shouted.

"Yeah, who's done everything he can ter make trouble in the castle since the beginning of the year," Amycus said. "And when we catch him, he's gonna get what's coming to him, and more!"

"You are dismissed, Minerva," said Severus, his voice dropping dangerously. His eyes were boring into hers, and she fought to close off her mind. She must have succeeded, for Snape blinked and narrowed his eyes. He drew an even breath. "Return to Gryffindor Tower at once and explain the new policy. It is effective immediately."

* * *

In the wee hours of the morning, Minerva sat before her mirror, combing her hair as she stared off into space. She was waiting for a sound, any sound that might alert her to movement in the castle. She had lain awake for several hours after conferring Snape's punishment on the Gryffindors, unable to see any way that she might help them, or, more immediately, Neville Longbottom.

She couldn't simply lie still any longer, so she had gotten up, lit a fire, and made a cup of tea. Now, that fire was dying, and she was seated before her mirror, gazing into her own exhausted, worn features. She looked down at her comb, caught helplessly in a particularly difficult knot. Her hair was getting too long; she would have to find time to cut it.

With a sigh, Minerva tied it up in a knot and looked at her reflection critically. It seemed like ages since she had taken more than a few moments to ensure her appearance in the mornings. Now that she had a moment, she realized that she was looking far from her best.

There were bags under her eyes and she was awfully pale, so that her eyes looked darker than their normal brown. Worry lines—wrinkles, her brothers would call them, just to annoy her—creased her mouth, eyes, and forehead. The effect was especially unpleasant given that Minerva was sitting slouched over with a slight scowl on her face.

She pulled her shoulders back and arched one eyebrow. That was better—much better. A rather nasty thought flitted through the back of her mind: _If I can help it, this will be the last thing Alecto Carrow ever sees._ She pushed it away quickly.

_Tap tap tap._

Minerva frowned. It was one in the morning, so who was knocking? But of course, she thought, as she got up and went to the door.

"Pomona."

"I can't sleep," she answered, hurrying in. "I don't think anyone saw me come in."

"I should say not, it's the middle of the night," said Minerva, pointing her to one of the two winged armchairs that sat before the fireplace.

"_You're_ awake," Pomona pointed out. She tutted and aimed her wand at the flames, which leapt higher, before she sat down.

"I am," Minerva said calmly, seating herself as well. "I have been trying to think what should be done about Neville Longbottom. He cannot be left in the Room of Requirement, if only because I am not at all certain that it can manifest food."

"But you can't sneak him out of the castle if Severus already suspects you," Pomona supplied, and she raised a hand, palm upwards, in a gesture of agreement. "We could take turns getting him food from the kitchens."

Minerva heaved a sigh. "I don't think that will work. He's intelligent, he will have found a way to seal the room against everyone except the rest of his gang, just in case someone came across him accidentally."

"Give it to Finnigan, then?" Pomona suggested.

"Well, therein lies the second problem," Minerva continued, wagging a finger, for she had already thought of this, "Taking food from the kitchens won't go unnoticed."

"Surely the house elves wouldn't betray you, if you asked them not to," Pomona said.

Minerva shook her head. "They are bound to Severus's orders, not mine. And you know how I feel about ordering them about, anyway, and that's just for small things. I couldn't ask them to lie, it goes against their nature."

They fell silent for a long while. Though it was really no better than sitting in the dark by herself, Minerva felt a bit more reassured with Pomona's presence.

"Aberforth." Pomona looked shocked, and sat up slightly. Her tone was one of amazement. "Minerva—Aberforth!"

"In the Hog's Head," Minerva said slowly. "But how would—"

"All you would have to do would be to find a way to get Longbottom to Aberforth," Pomona insisted. "He's Albus's brother, I'm sure he would help, especially if you asked."

Minerva frowned slightly. "He and I don't get along very well, I'm afraid. He'll give me a private room to meet Remus Lupin when I need to, but that's the extent of our arrangement."

"Oh, he doesn't get along with anybody, but he's got enough sense to help us," Pomona said, waving a hand impatiently. "When do you see Remus again?"

Minerva racked her brains, trying to think of the date in his letter. "In four days, if I can even manage to get out of the castle. Longbottom could starve by then."

"He's a resourceful boy," Pomona said doubtfully. "I would trust him to last at least that long."

Minerva gave a small sigh. "I just don't know, Pomona."

"I do," she replied decisively. "We're going to get Aberforth's help to smuggle Longbottom out of the castle, or at least get the poor boy some food while we find another way." She stared at Minerva oddly for a moment, as though she had just noticed something in her features. "What is it, Minerva?"

"I didn't tell you…quite everything," Minerva said slowly, staring into the flickering flames, "About what Severus said." Pomona watched her. "It's been on my mind. He—he said that anyone caught helping Longbottom would be punished as severely as he could come up with."

"That sounds quite like what he's said all year," Pomona muttered.

"No," Minerva said, still in the same, slow tone. "It was the way he said it. There's something that's gone wrong for them—the Death Eaters, I mean. They've gotten desperate. They were furious when Ginny Weasley didn't come back to school. Now they're terrified Longbottom has vanished under their noses, when he's been causing so much mayhem. And…have you noticed anything odd about Draco Malfoy?" she asked.

Pomona looked startled. "Malfoy? I…I don't believe so. He's always been quiet in my lessons."

Minerva shook her head. "There's something that's happened to his family."

"How do you know that?" Pomona's voice had grown very soft, and Minerva did not have to look at her to know she was suddenly afraid.

"I think that…no," she said firmly. "I know that they've fallen into some kind of trouble—they've fallen out of favor. I—I saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Pomona. He was here, in the castle. He was here, and Snape brought him in."

Pomona paled. "What?" she whispered.

"While the students were still on holiday," said Minerva, "I woke in the middle of the night—I was coming to find you—and I saw him, marching down that corridor with Severus." She pointed towards her office, beyond which lay the seventh-floor corridor. "He mentioned the Malfoys, and it sounded as though he was unhappy with the way the school's been handled. He needed to talk to Severus about it. And—and today, I think—I think I heard Alecto Carrow say that they wanted to take Longbottom straight to him. They've gotten in real trouble, and now they're trying to make up for it."

She sat forward, pressing her face into her hands. "None of it makes sense, I know, but…it's all got to do with Harry Potter, I know it has. I don't know what."

Pomona was a delicate shade of green. "You don't think—"

"They've found him? No, I don't," Minerva said resolutely. "But I think they nearly did, and I think they're worried he's come too close to them."

"And if they thought Ron Weasley was with him…he never had spattergroit, we knew that from the out…" Pomona trailed off. "Do you suppose they believe Longbottom and the others are getting orders from Potter?"

Minerva nodded. "I doubt that it is true, but it could very well be what they think."

"We need to see if Aberforth will help him," Pomona said desperately. "He's one of the few left out there who's close enough to even try."

Minerva frowned, but nodded once. "I'll speak to him, then."


	24. Chapter 24

Hello loveys. :) Did anybody else watch Jo Rowling's webcast for the schoolchildren last week? It gave me some major warm fuzzies, particularly for the Hufflepuffs. We most certainly _should _all want to be Hufflepuffs, and this is from a very proud and committed Gryffindor. Gave me some ideas for the battle, anyway, which is forthcoming. (insert evil smile)

* * *

Minerva sat in Aberforth's private room above the Hog's Head bar, nervously awaiting Remus's arrival. It had been ten days since Neville Longbottom's disappearance into the Room of Requirement; she had thought it best to delay a trip out of the castle, and had been forced to reschedule her meeting with Remus to an even later date than she'd hoped. She was more anxious than ever, not least because the Carrows were at their very worst. More and more students were being disciplined. The standard Dark Arts lesson now was using the Cruciatus Curse against those who earned detentions, and those who refused were automatically and cruelly punished. Even more terrible, it seemed that the desire to refuse at all was waning among the youngest students.

And yet…there was something very odd going on. That morning, Minerva had found her classroom door standing ajar, though there was no evidence that anyone had been there or that anything was taken, save for a few spellbooks and potion manuals from the shelf of abandoned books she kept at the back of the classroom. Pomona had reported something similar; her dittany plants had been pruned, and her greenhouse door left open.

It was not difficult to guess what might be happening. Longbottom was marshaling Dumbledore's Army from within the Room of Requirement, and they were storing up medical supplies and information for when they were punished by the Carrows. It seemed that they were preparing, once again, for a wave of midnight attacks on the school—or possibly something even larger. Minerva's open door meant that they were finding ways to get into the classrooms without detection.

The door to the bar downstairs opened, and Aberforth appeared, looking irritated. "I'll get drinks," he muttered, standing aside from the open door to admit Remus.

Minerva stood and gave a faint smile as Aberforth disappeared down the stairs again. "Remus—congratulations," she said, and she was surprised to hear a heavy note of emotion in her own voice.

He beamed, looking quite divested of the weariness he had borne so heavily for so long. For the first time in quite a while, he looked his age. "Thank you," he said excitedly, hurrying to hug her and catching her off guard. "We're thrilled—but I'll tell you all that later—I have a bit of news for you."

Minerva lifted her eyebrows. She gestured to the table, indicating that they should sit down. "Do you?"

"I've seen Harry," he said, lowering his voice and leaning across the table to her. "He, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger are all alive and well—Merlin's beard!"

Minerva had just gasped so suddenly that she nearly choked. "You saw them?" she sputtered and coughed, massaging her throat. "All three?"

"And more," Remus said earnestly. "Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas are staying at Bill and Fleur Weasley's house with them."

"Lovegood—and Thomas?" Minerva felt her chest constrict and her eyes smart.

"I don't have the full details, but I understand they were all captured and managed an escape," Remus said. "Bill doesn't know much about it, because Harry won't say a word."

With an achingly wonderful flare of annoyance, Minerva huffed through her nose. "Of course he won't. He's stubborn as they come."

Remus grinned. "I thought you'd like that bit of good news. At least for now, they're safe."

"That's quite a bit cheerier than what I've got to tell you," Minerva said apologetically. She explained about Augusta Longbottom and the Carrows, and her desire to get Neville away from Hogwarts. "He needs to be taken away," she finished. "It's the only way to protect him and the other students."

"I—I'm not sure how much can be done, Minerva," Remus said, recovering himself remarkably well for the outpouring of the story he had just endured. He counted on his fingers. "You've said that Snape is already watching you, he's locked your House in Gryffindor Tower, and Neville Longbottom is hiding in the Room of Requirement, but may be rallying their dueling club."

Minerva nodded. "That's the general idea. Longbottom—"

"D'you say Longbottom?" grunted a voice, and they both turned to look at the door to their private room, which Aberforth was opening again. He carried gillywater and a butterbeer on a tray, and set the drinks before their owners.

"Yes," Minerva said warily. "Why?"

Aberforth's eyes, as they so often did, flickered over to the painting of his smiling sister, which hung on the wall above the fireplace. "No reason. Knew a couple of Longbottoms, that's all."

"Alice and Frank, Aberforth," Remus said patiently. "We all knew them. They were Neville's parents."

Aberforth glanced at the painting. "And that's the kid you want me to help sneak out of the castle?"

Minerva nodded testily, knowing his answer already. Upon her arrival, she had spent a quarter of an hour trying to convince him before he had abruptly left the room, closing the subject. "I only asked because I thought you might—"

"I can't," he said abruptly. "Don't think it's possible, and besides, what would I do with him? Be more trouble than it's worth if what you say is true, and they're looking all over for him. Dementors swooping in my pub every hour…" He grunted and wiped his hands on his dirty apron. "Sorry, McGonagall, can't do it."

Minerva let out an exasperated sigh. "So I gathered." She looked at Remus pointedly as Aberforth disappeared back down to the pub. "But the fact remains, he can't stay in the castle until the end of June. It's not safe, and it's not practical. I don't even know how he's lasted this long without eating."

Remus ran a hand through his graying hair, frustrated. "It's not much safer out here, Minerva. How much are you risking by meeting me here, today?"

"Still," she said, shaking her head, "There must be something that we can do to get him out of the school…"

Remus gave an odd sort of smile. "There must _always_ be a way with you, mustn't there?" Minerva gave an irritated huff, but did not disagree. He looked down at his watch. "How long have you been away?"

"Nearly an hour," she said, looking at the pocket watch she carried. It had belonged to Elphinstone. "My next lesson isn't until after lunch."

"I remember those days," Remus said, rather wistfully. "There was one day every week when I had nothing but two lessons of fourth years."

Minerva gave another faint smile. "If I make it through all of this, Remus, the job is yours the moment you want it."

For the first time, his expression darkened. "You know why I left. That won't change for anything."

She felt a sudden urge to grab his arm, but restrained it. "You were the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we had had in a very long time. I trust you, just as Dumbledore did. And you could be at Hogwarts to teach your own son. What could be better than that?"

At the mention of his son, Remus smiled slightly. "Well, I'd have to think about it."

Minerva nodded and let the matter drop. "Tell me how your wife is. And I hope you have another picture of that baby."

Remus smiled even more broadly and reached into his pocket. "I can't stop taking photographs," he said, blushing a bit. He held out a picture of a small baby lying on a blue blanket. His single tuft of hair, which stuck straight up in the center of his head, was the same shade of blue. He was staring at the camera with a look of intense concentration, wriggling his arms and legs.

"Dora thinks I'm going to have a complete collection of every second of Teddy's life," Remus chuckled, as Minerva stared at the baby. "You can keep that one, I've got about twelve more on hand."

"No," she said, holding it out to him. "You need it. You only get them like this for so long."

Remus tucked the photo back into his pocket. "You ought to get back to the castle before Snape decides to lock you in the tower, too."

Minerva nodded. "Ask anybody you can think of about getting Longbottom out, would you, Remus? Pomona and I can only do so much, and I'm very worried…"

"Of course," he promised, rising. "Although I wouldn't underestimate the boy. He can get himself out of a tight spot if he has to. I'd count on that. I'll send word through Hagrid if I come up with anything to help."

Minerva was at the door, one hand on the handle. She smiled slightly and nodded. "Disapparate in here," she said. "It's safer if you're not out on the street."

"Yes, Professor," Remus said, with just a hint of a smirk.

It was a short walk up to the castle from this end of High Street, but Minerva hurried along as quickly as she could. It was very nearly May, and there was no cloud cover or rain to allow her to draw her hood over her face in the late afternoon sun. She did not know what might happen if she, of all people, were spotted outside of Hogwarts, but she had no doubt that it would be bad.

She met no one, however, and safely reached the entrance hall. The dementors, which had increased by the hundreds since Neville's disappearance, abandoned their posts during the daylight hours, preferring to lurk in the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. This made it easy to pass through the Whomping Willow passage, unnoticed, as a cat.

The castle was eerily quiet, Minerva thought as she arrived in her classroom. That was how it had been all year, of course, but it seemed especially strange, now. She was used to hearing laughter and chatter in the corridors, telling off students for sitting on the staircases, and, on clear days like these, listening to Quidditch practices echo across the grounds.

She missed it.

The door opened just as Minerva finished sorting her notes. Pomona was bringing Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first years from their Herbology lesson. They filed quietly inside and found their seats, facing front without even looking at one another. Minerva frowned.

"There's something off with them today," Pomona muttered, coming closer under the pretext of picking up a piece of parchment from Minerva's desk. "They're not talking at all."

"I have something to tell you," Minerva replied in an undertone.

Pomona raised her eyebrows. "Something regarding our conversation the other night? About some_one_?"

Minerva nodded, and Pomona's eyes widened eagerly as she nodded. She threw another concerned glance at the first years and said, "See if you can't get them to stop behaving so oddly, and I'll talk to you later."

Minerva nodded, and waited for her to leave the room before turning on the students. She frowned. Fourteen expressionless faces stared back at her, wands in hand. "Who is missing?" she asked suddenly. She counted the Hufflepuffs—all eight were there. She looked to the Gryffindors.

Then the classroom door banged open, and Josephine O'Brien came scurrying in, looking terrified, but grinning. "Sorry, Professor," she panted, dropping into her seat beside Evelyn Alistair. "Had to—use the bathroom."

Still, the other first years did not break their dead-ahead stares, although a few of them smirked and repressed giggles.

"Pass up your homework, please," Minerva said warily, and there was a great shuffling noise as they all hastened to obey. "Mr. Ambrose, retrieve the box on my desk and give one key to each student." The small Hufflepuff boy sprang to his feet and darted forward to seize the jangling box of antique keys. Minerva flicked her wand, and her handwriting appeared on the blackboard. "Your instructions are here. Your goal is—"

But she was unable to finish her sentence, for with a series of loud bangs and screeches, a small explosion somewhere in the castle rattled the windows of the room. Minerva flew to the door.

"What on earth—?" She stopped, frozen in the act of reaching for the handle, and turned slowly. The first years had done nothing to react to the sudden noise. They remained motionless. Josephine O'Brien appeared to have broken into a cold sweat as she stared directly forward.

Minerva groaned. "What have you all done?"

For the second time, the classroom door banged open to admit Alecto Carrow, heaving and disheveled as she hunted out the one she wanted. There was smoke smeared across her face, and her robes were partially torn. With the door open, Minerva could hear the sounds of students running and shouting through the halls.

"O'BRIEN!" Alecto roared, striding over and seizing the girl by the scruff of her robes.

"Professor Carrow, please!" Minerva cried. "What are you doing?"

"I saw her running from the entrance hall not two minutes ago!" Alecto snarled, giving Josephine a shake. "Dropped them nasty little things, eh?" she demanded, with another shake. "Thought you'd be clever, eh?"

Josephine shook her head adamantly, but didn't seem to be able to speak. She was lying, Minerva could see that much, and so could Alecto.

"You're comin' with me," she snapped, half-dragging Josephine from the classroom.

"No, Professor!" Josephine squeaked. She turned terrified eyes on Minerva. "Professor McGonagall, no! Please, Professor!"

"Release her," Minerva commanded, blocking the doorway. "Let her go, now. She arrived in my classroom with everyone else."

"Outta my way, McGonagall!" Alecto shrieked, drawing her wand and aiming it directly at Minerva's throat. A gasp sounded throughout the room; none of the first years had ever seen one teacher draw a wand on another. "OUTTA MY WAY!" She looked insane, her face scarlet with fury.

But Minerva did not move. Josephine was clinging to the collar of her own robes, clutched in Alecto's hand, and watching them face each other with eyes full of tears.

_BANG._

A painful, percussive force knocked Minerva backwards, and she flew out the door, clear across the corridor, hitting the stone wall so hard that her vision went dark and she was unable to draw breath. She had the upsetting impression that she had felt more than one bone in her own body crack upon impact. Disoriented, her head spinning, she was aware only of Josephine's shrieks of fright getting farther and farther away…

"I'm getting Madam Pomfrey!" said a voice, and Minerva forced her eyes to focus. Clutching her ribs, she tried to sit up, and became aware of many pairs of hands assisting her.

"Professor?"

Evelyn Alistair's face swam into view, kneeling before her, surrounded by all of the other terror-stricken first years. "Professor McGonagall, are you all right?"

Minerva nodded, but leaned back against the wall, still holding her ribs as she caught her breath—this was difficult, as her broken rib or ribs seemed to be stabbing her like knives. "Yes," she gasped. "Will all of you please collect your things, and return quietly to your common rooms?"

"What about Josephine?" asked Carmichael Wallace. "You can't just let her get taken off like that!"

"All of you, to your common rooms, now," Minerva said firmly. There were mutters and mutinous glances exchanged, but the first years returned to the classroom. Minerva closed her eyes; she had definitely broken ribs.

"Oh, my goodness!"

"I'm fine, Poppy," Minerva insisted, though she did not move her arm from her ribcage. Poppy knelt beside her and immediately began trying to ascertain the injury. Minerva looked up at the girl who had gone running off to the hospital wing, furrowing her brow. "Collect your things, Miss Johnston, and return to the Hufflepuff common room."

The pigtailed girl darted into the classroom.

"Can you stand?" Poppy asked. "Here—let me help—"

Minerva got to her feet, but winced at the needle-sharp pain in her sides. She felt like she could not properly draw breath.

"It's nothing I can't fix in a moment," Poppy was saying, keeping a firm, supportive hand on Minerva's arm. "What she can have been thinking—"

"Never mind that, what happened in the entrance hall?" Minerva demanded. She limped over to the landing, where she could see several floors down to the entrance hall below. Filius and Pomona were gathered with a large number of curious students around a small, smoking crater that had appeared in the center of the stone floor. "What on earth…?"

Something snapped into place in her mind, and she turned to search among the first years scurrying out of her classroom. She shot out a hand and caught a shoulder. "Not so fast, Alistair."

Evelyn seemed to shrink slightly under Minerva's stare, clutching her books to her chest.

"Do you know something about what has just happened?" she asked sternly. "The truth, please."

Evelyn looked around, terrified, as though she hoped someone might come to her aid. "I—I—"

"Minerva, please," Poppy insisted. "Speak to her later and let me see you in the hospital wing—"

Minerva held up a hand. "I will be there shortly, Poppy. Miss Alistair, follow me." With an imperious gesture, she took Evelyn back in the classroom and shut the door. Deciding that sitting would be more painful than remaining upright, she leaned against her desk. This conversation would have to be quick; she could feel her heartbeat racing because she could not breathe normally.

Evelyn was staring at her feet.

"Well?" Minerva asked.

Evelyn said nothing for a moment. Her chin trembled. "I—we didn't think—we didn't think all that would happen…" she whispered.

"We?" Minerva repeated. Again, Evelyn said nothing. Minerva let out an exasperated sigh but regretted it when pain lanced through her side. "Miss Alistair, if you know of a reason why your classmate was just taken from the lesson, you must tell me immediately."

Her chin trembled again, and she burst out, "I found a box under Ginny Weasley's bed! I don't think anyone else knew it was there, but it—it was from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes! Decoy Detonators, a whole box!"

Minerva groaned inwardly.

Tears were streaming down Evelyn's face. "I know I shouldn't have been in their dormitory, I know, but—well, I was! And Josephine said—she said we should be helping Dumbledore's Army, and—and she wanted to make trouble too!"

"And so you arranged to set off the entire box in the entrance hall," Minerva said, trying not to raise her voice. "Causing a minor explosion and damaging the castle."

"Josephine wasn't supposed to get caught," Evelyn wailed miserably. "It was just an accident, an accident! I'm sorry, Professor, really! Please—tell Professor Carrow it was my idea, make her let Josephine go!"

"Oh, Miss Alistair," Minerva muttered, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Evelyn gave a little sob. "I won't do that. I—I will speak to Professor Snape, but I want you to return to Gryffindor Tower immediately."

"Please," Evelyn begged. "I'm sorry. We just wanted to help. We thought—we thought if—if Neville and the others were getting away with it, we could too, and we should try to—to be like them."

Minerva tried to keep the frustration in her voice to a minimum and said, "I understand, Miss Alistair. But in this particular case, your assistance was not required. I shall speak to you about this later. Please go back to Gryffindor Tower."

Evelyn looked defeated at last, her little shoulders sagging. "Yes, Professor." Dragging her feet, she left the classroom.

Minerva shut her eyes, wrapping her arm around her ribs again.

"Now will you let me examine you?" Poppy demanded angrily. She had to have been waiting outside the door for the right moment to pounce.

"Yes," Minerva murmured, without opening her eyes. Her side was starting to hurt even more, and she felt as though she couldn't catch her breath.

"Minerva?"

"I can't breathe…"

* * *

Minerva sat up suddenly, wide-awake. She lay on top of the blankets of a bed in the hospital wing. Immediately, her freedom of movement told her that her ribs, whatever their injury, had been repaired. She touched a hand gently to her side and felt only the slightest bit of soreness.

Outside the hospital wing windows, it appeared to be dusk; some two hours seemed to have transpired since the events in her classroom. Minerva picked up her glasses from the bedside table, and got up. Down the ward, Poppy's office door stood open, so she hurried over.

"Poppy."

She jumped so violently that she upset a bottle of ink over her desk and gasped, "Good lord, Minerva, you scared me to death!" Then she leapt to her feet and steered her back out into the ward. "Sit down at once."

"I need to go and speak with Severus," Minerva said firmly, but Poppy directed her to sit on the bed.

"And I need to be sure I didn't miss anything when I mended your _punctured lung_." The look on Poppy's face was as close to vicious as she ever came. "When I get my chance…when I…I'll get her for…oh!" With a frustrated exclamation, she flicked her wand in front of Minerva's face. Nothing happened, and this seemed to satisfy her.

"You're well enough, but I want you to remain here—"

"Poppy, please don't—"

"Minerva, listen to me," Poppy snapped. Her expression was grave. "They are tearing the castle apart looking for Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil. They've gone missing."

"Missing," Minerva repeated faintly.

Poppy looked over her shoulder, as if ensuring that they were alone. "Pomona was here, she told me. Not long after I brought you here and tended to you, Longbottom's group decided to rescue your troublemaking little first year, O'Brien. I understand that they failed, but escaped, except for one. Michael Corner was brought to me—I only let him go because they made me, Minerva, but his injuries were terrible, even after I helped him. He—he could have easily died—I wanted them to leave him, I did—"

"Poppy," Minerva said gently, but urgently, "I understand, I know. Please tell me what's happened."

"Corner must have said something that set them on Finnigan's trail," she answered simply. "But by the time Alecto got to Gryffindor Tower, Finnigan and the girls were gone, just like Longbottom."

"Gone?"

"Absolutely vanished," Poppy insisted. "They're ripping the castle to pieces, and as I understand it, they're not letting any students help, this time. I don't know what's become of the Gryffindors," she added, when Minerva opened her mouth to ask.

Three heavy knocks sounded on the ward doors, and Poppy looked frightened.

"Minerva, lie down and pretend you're sleeping," she whispered.

"What?"

"Pretend you're still unconscious or I'll Stun you!" Poppy hissed, and Minerva lay down immediately. She felt Poppy remove her spectacles and place a blanket over her. The visitor outside the ward door knocked again, more impatiently. Minerva lay quite still, hardly daring to breathe too perceptibly. She heard the ward door creak open.

"Headmaster," Poppy said, surprised. Soft footsteps sounded, and Minerva heard them approach her bed. She could see it in her mind's eye: Snape standing at the foot of the bed, scrutinizing her with Poppy at his side, trying to stop him from looking too closely.

"What is Professor McGonagall's condition?" asked Snape's low, drawling voice.

"She is still unconscious, headmaster, but you'll be glad to know she's going to make a full recovery," Poppy replied, with just a hint of biting anger in her tone. "I am afraid I cannot allow her to be disturbed."

"Calm yourself, Poppy," Snape said, sounding irritated, and Minerva felt a flicker of anger at his disregard. "I wish only to relay the message that we are concluding our search. When she wakes, inform Minerva that beginning tomorrow morning, all students are to submit to questioning by Professor Carrow and myself. She will be expected to be present with the other Heads of House."

If it would not give her completely away, Minerva would have snorted. Poppy's incredulity was palpable.

"You're going to interrogate students?" she asked.

"Beginning tomorrow with the Gryffindors," Snape repeated testily. "And I shall continue until I determine the whereabouts of any and all remaining accomplices of Longbottom and his gang of incompetents. Make sure Minerva is in my office tomorrow morning."

With a swish of his cloak, he was gone, but Minerva lay still until she heard the ward door close to sit up and look at Poppy, who seemed to be holding back tears of anger; she gripped the foot of the bed so hard that her knuckles were turning white.

"What," she breathed, "Do they think they are doing? _What do they think they are doing?_"

Minerva shook her head slowly. "I haven't any idea," she murmured. She reached for her spectacles and put them on. "I don't know, Poppy, I really don't."

Poppy pressed a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes, and began to cry. Minerva's heart ached, and she stood to put a comforting hand on her arm. Stalwart and brisk though she may have been when it came to bedside manner, Poppy was more prone to tears than she would ever admit. "When is this going to be over?" she whispered, heaving a shuddering breath.

"I don't know, dear," Minerva said gently.

Poppy hiccupped, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. "I can't do my job, I just have to watch the—the poor things—those horrible scars—and _him!_" She pointed to the doors through which Snape had just vanished. "He got driven out of the castle, and he's—he's just right at home, isn't he?"

"Try not to think of it," said Minerva quietly, feeling a stab of nausea. "One day soon—"

"Harry Potter is alive, isn't he, Minerva?" Poppy asked desperately, her eyes full of tears. "He is? I don't know that I could bear it if—"

"He's alive," Minerva replied, so firmly and so loudly that she startled herself. Her own voice echoed in the quiet hospital wing. "He is, Poppy. It's got to end soon, and he's going to be the one to do it. I know he is."

She gave a choked laugh. "You could be talking about Quidditch." Her eyes flickered down, to Minerva's neck. "That's a beautiful ring. I don't think I've seen it since—I'm sorry."

For Minerva had just tucked the chain quickly under her collar once more. She gave a tight smile. "It's all right."

Poppy nodded. "You keep him with you. It's only right. He would have been a part of all this with you, no matter what."

Minerva drew a deep breath. "Poppy, I…when it comes down to the end—if anything—well, after today, I was just thinking…if anything happens to me, I want—I want you to take this." She touched the collar of her robes. "Take it to—my niece. Isobel. You'll find her address with my things. Pomona should go, too."

"You say that like you expect it," Poppy whispered, her voice giving out beneath her tears. "Like you expect to—"

"Die," Minerva finished, when she couldn't. She took another deep breath. "Only a battle can end a war, Poppy, and we have not yet had one."

Poppy nodded once, wiping away a tear. "Sleep here tonight," she said, adopting her brisk, matronly manner again. "You shouldn't be drawing any more attention to yourself." She looked around. "Do what you like to make the room comfortable. It's yours."

Minerva thought with guilt of the unhealed slashes cut into Neville Longbottom's face, and knew that Poppy felt a thousand times worse than she did. She patted her arm. "Soon, dear. I know it will be."

Poppy heaved a sigh and wiped her cheeks one more time. "Get some rest, Minerva." She turned away, hurrying up the ward. Her office door closed, and Minerva was alone in the dark hospital wing.


	25. Chapter 25

It's LONG, people, but I think you shall be glad. :D *dun-dun-DUNNNNNNN*

Also! 1: Happy Halloween. 2: It's my 21st birthday on Thursday, so PARTY PARTY PEOPLE! IN THE NAME OF ME! (totally self-serving note). Send in any fic requests you like (that includes if you've requested one in the past and I haven't done it. BAD DOBBY!) and I will do them!

* * *

"I still say we ought ter use Veritaserum," Alecto grumbled, as the last Ravenclaw first year left Snape's office. It was late afternoon; Minerva had been sitting in the wide, round room for hours. The portraits on the walls had abandoned their frames. Minerva liked to think that it was because they were disgusted with Snape's abuse of his power.

The office was overheated in the early summer light that streamed through the windows. Horace sat beside her, sweating profusely. On her other side was Filius, whom Pomona was repeatedly elbowing in order to stop him from speaking up in anger. Snape had been particularly harsh on the girl who had just left.

The four Heads of House sat in a row at one side of Snape's desk. On the other side were the Carrows, and Severus sat behind the table, glaring coldly at each student who had passed underneath his hooked nose.

"We would hear more useless things than I care to imagine," he said dismissively, waving a hand at Alecto. "It is easier this way."

"Ye mean when only _you _get to know what's goin' through their heads, Snape?" Alecto asked angrily.

He turned cold eyes on her. "You are quite correct, Alecto. Who is next?" he barked at Amycus, without removing his gaze from her.

"Hufflepuffs," Amycus grunted.

Pomona looked at Minerva, who nodded encouragingly, and stood up to go to the door.

For the last two days, lessons had been cancelled and all students had been confined to their House common rooms. On the first day, Gryffindor House had gone into questioning, followed by Slytherin. Neither had been productive, for Gryffindor was devoid of all of its members of Dumbledore's Army, and those who remained had been reticent and unhelpful.

Minerva had felt ill to see Josephine O'Brien, bruised and cut all across her face and neck, seated before Snape's desk with a look of fierce defiance on her face.

The only information that Slytherin House had provided came from Draco Malfoy.

"All I know is that the entrance is across from that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy," he had muttered, not looking up from his folded arms. "I told you that ages ago."

"That weren't enough, then," Amycus snapped. "We need ter get in, not just stare at the wall!"

"Then I can't help you," Malfoy retorted. "They probably sealed it against you, anyhow. I figured that out after about a second of being in there. I'm sure even Longbottom could have done it after six months."

Minerva's fists balled in her lap, but Horace laid a heavy hand on her arm, shaking his great head only slightly. She let out a huff of irritation, but had remained silent for the rest of the questioning.

Minerva was sure that today, the second day of interrogation, would prove no more helpful. Now that Ravenclaw was finished, Filius was breathing a sigh of relief just as Pomona reached the door.

"Hang on," Alecto snapped suddenly. She was frowning down at a long scroll of parchment. "We're missin' a few, there. Seventh years…Ravenclaws," she added quietly, her eyes resting on Filius.

Minerva stiffened.

"I think you're mistaken. We saw all of the seventh years," Filius began, but Snape interrupted. He had gotten up and snatched Alecto's list from her.

"She is not, Professor Flitwick," he said coldly. "We saw _almost _all of your seventh year students. Two of them, however, failed to come before us."

"Corner," Amycus said eagerly, pointing at the parchment. He too had gathered around Snape with his sister. "An'…that's Patil's twin."

Minerva's mind was racing; had the Ravenclaws fled to the safety of the Room of Requirement? She could see her question reflected in the faces of everyone else in the room. If they had, they would have done so to protect Michael Corner—perhaps he was still as badly off as Poppy had feared. Pomona and Filius looked as though they were restraining cries of elation. Horace looked frightened.

Severus was white as a sheet. "Pomona, go to your House at once—Alecto, go with her—if any of your students are missing—"

"You'll do what, precisely?"

Minerva was on her feet, staring fixedly at Snape. A roaring had filled her ears and her heart was racing, her fists balled at her sides. She was aware of Horace catching at her sleeve, but she paid him no mind. Severus was glaring just as fiercely back at her, but he did not speak.

"Enlighten us, headmaster. What exactly do you expect to do about the students that have vanished—excuse me, I should call it what it is," she spat derisively, "I meant _fled_ and _gone into hiding_ from _them_." Her lip curled as she looked upon Amycus and Alecto.

Amycus started forward menacingly. "You—"

"Please, Amycus," Snape said, raising one hand calmly. He did not remove his eyes from Minerva's. "What is it you wish to say, Minerva?"

"_You_ are the reason students are missing! _ You_ and your—Death Eater lackeys! For all we know, every single one of these students could be dead, or worse, and it is entirely your fault!" Minerva cried. Horace was making blustering, nervous noises beside her, but Filius and Pomona were completely silent, their attention locked on her. "I hope you know that you are, perhaps, the worst failure of a headmaster this school has ever seen! It's no wonder that students are going into hiding! I, for one—"

"Support them?" Snape's voice was so soft, so velvety quiet, that it startled Minerva into silence. "You support them, and their destruction, and slander, and useless acts of stupidity—or would you call that bravery?"

"Don't spew your lies at me, Snape," Minerva snapped. "There are first years in this school who are brave enough to know that you, and these two oafs, are _wrong_." She was reaching dangerous ground; she could see that in the vein that was throbbing in Severus's temple, but she could not make herself stop. "You're criminals, liars, and murderers, and one day very, very soon, you're going to get what you deserve."

Severus blinked. "Is there anyone else who shares Professor McGonagall's opinion?" he asked, his voice still deadly soft. No one spoke. Minerva had not expected them to, nor would she have asked it. She had crossed a line. "I think, Professor McGonagall, that it would be best if we were, for a short time, to relieve you of your teaching duties. You are very clearly overwrought from your experience the other afternoon—"

"You want to throw me out of the castle?" she asked, sounding quite a bit haughtier than she had intended.

"No," Snape said softly. "I certainly do not."

_He's afraid. _The thought leapt wildly to the front of Minerva's mind, and she prepared to latch onto it, to shout him down at last—

"You can't."

Snape's eyes flickered over to Pomona, who stood firmly in front of the door. She was positively white. "Take her away, and you stand scaring off the rest of the students—you can't risk that."

"Consider it, Severus," Horace said, standing as well. "You've got enough on your plate with just these few missing—you can't make it seem as though you've lost control of your staff."

Filius actually got to his feet and stood protectively in front of Minerva, his arms folded. "I wouldn't, headmaster."

Minerva saw a muscle in Snape's jaw twitch. His hand gave a sort of tic, as though he had considered for a moment trying to draw his wand. Finally, he drew a sharp breath through his hooked nose and turned away. The Carrows were still glowering unpleasantly at Minerva. When he spoke, Snape's voice was indifferent and he was facing away from them, his eyes on the wall of portraits behind his desk. "Find out whether your Ravenclaws have joined Longbottom in his cowardice, Flitwick—and see to the Hufflepuffs. Minerva, consider yourself warned."

"And you, headmaster," she said automatically. She did not know what made her say it, but it was a mistake.

Snape whirled around. "ALL OF YOU, OUT OF THIS OFFICE, IMMEDIATELY!" he bellowed, reaching out and striking the bookshelf so hard that several leather-bound volumes tumbled off, and one of Albus's small, silver devices crashed to the floor. "_OUT!_"

There was a general rush for the door, led by Alecto and Amycus, but Minerva took her time. She walked slowly and calmly to the door, where she stopped. She met Snape's eyes for a few moments before strolling through the door, shutting it softly behind her.

* * *

"'You know, I've got a brilliant idea, I'll just verbally abuse the three people in this castle who wouldn't have a moment's hesitation before murdering me on the spot!'" Pomona cried hysterically. She waved one hand so wildly that she let fly the spade she was holding. It soared across the greenhouse and nearly decapitated a Fanged Geranium. She gave Minerva a filthy look, as though it were her fault. "Honestly, you mad old—didn't stop for a moment to _think_—" She made a noise of disgust, swore, and picked up her wand. "_Accio_," she muttered, and the spade came flying back to her hand. She resumed digging through the pot of earth before her.

"You're right. I wasn't really thinking," Minerva said quietly.

"Really?" Pomona retorted. "Is that a fact?"

"I let my anger carry me off, Pomona, I'm sorry for it," she said earnestly. "Thank you, for standing up for me."

"I won't see anyone driven out of this castle," Pomona mumbled. "Anyone _else_, at least."

Minerva felt a pang for her; after hastily departing Snape's office the afternoon before, they had agreed it was best to avoid the Carrows, who were patrolling the corridors at every waking hour, and to meet in the greenhouses before breakfast the next morning. In the meantime, Pomona had made the unpleasant discovery that one of her seventh years, Susan Bones, was gone as well.

"I suppose there's one good thing in all of it," she said, after a long stretch of silence during which she broke up a particularly tough clod of dirt. "We'll have classes again, instead of prisoners. Wonder what breakfast will be like."

Minerva shrugged. Something else had been on her mind, and had kept her awake all night. She had had less than two hours of sleep because her mind had not stopped whirring. "Haven't you wondered how they're doing it?"

"Doing what?" Pomona asked, placing the pot on a tray and laying aside her spade.

"Keeping alive," said Minerva. "Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration won't allow that room to make food for them, I know it. I can't see how even Rowena Ravenclaw would have worked around that one, and according to every legend there is, the Room of Requirement was her pet project."

"Maybe they're stealing from the kitchens," Pomona suggested tiredly. "Come on, let's get to breakfast."

"They can't be," Minerva insisted, following her from the greenhouse. "They aren't dead, and they haven't left the school—otherwise, how would the others know where to go? Yours and Filius's, I mean."

"Don't say it like that, Minerva." Pomona shuddered as she flicked her wand and locked the greenhouse door behind them. "I don't want to think they could be dead."

"No," Minerva replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." She had, of course, simply been talking, but now that she realized what she had said, the idea sickened her. The very idea of one student dying was bad enough—more than one…she could not even think of it.

"I had thought they might try for a little more trouble," Pomona said worriedly, as they walked through the doors of the Great Hall. "But after what they did to Michael Corner…and poor Miss O'Brien…perhaps not. And perhaps they're better off."

"Decidedly so," Minerva agreed. "Though I doubt that Longbottom or any of the others will see it that way." As she and Pomona crossed the threshold, they found that the Great Hall was surprisingly lively; there was chatter and laughter everywhere, and she actually smiled a bit. It was nice to see the students behaving at least somewhat normally. She sighed. "We have exams to give."

Pomona rolled her eyes. "I'll ask them whether or not the plant they are holding is magical, and then pass them, regardless of the answer. You can't seriously be considering giving an exam in all of this?"

Minerva shrugged as she settled into her chair at the head table. "What are we supposed to do? The Ministry is coming to give O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, regardless."

"Have a heart, Minerva."

"What is happening down there?" Minerva pointed to the Hufflepuff table, where both Alecto and Amycus had converged on Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott.

"I expect Severus has told them about Susan Bones," Pomona said anxiously, rising immediately and hurrying away, down to the trouble.

Minerva looked anxiously over to the Ravenclaw table. If Michael Corner had been caught and beaten by the Carrows, she had a shrewd idea as to who else might belong to Dumbledore's Army. Sure enough, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein were watching the Hufflepuff table warily. Minerva let out a sigh.

"Leave her alone!"

Minerva was jerked back to reality by Ernie Macmillan's shout; it drew the attention of the entire hall, which fell immediately silent. He had leapt to his feet beside Pomona, who was attempting to push him back. Alecto held Hannah in a vice grip, attempting to drag her off, and Hannah was wrestling furiously. Minerva stood as Amycus, sensing trouble, darted across the hall and came to Alecto's side.

"Come on, pretty, you've got some questions ter answer," he jeered, seizing her other arm. He threw Ernie a filthy look. "You're next, Macmillan."

"Carrow!"

And Minerva had a sudden, heart-stopping moment of terror, for of all the things that could have come to her mind at that moment, she could have sworn that it was Albus who had just called out. As one, all heads in the Great Hall turned to the doorway. Snape, white-faced and tense, was rushing up the aisle to the Carrows, a newspaper clutched in his hand.

"Release her," he barked.

"What? Snape," Alecto began furiously.

"_Release her, now!_" he shrieked, descending upon them like an overgrown bat. He brandished the _Daily Prophet_ in his fist. "Come with me at once!"

Extremely reluctantly, the Carrows relinquished their grips on Hannah and trudged away from the Hufflepuff table after Snape, nearly knocking over a few entering fourth years.

Chatter burst out across the hall; Minerva distinctly saw Ernie pull Hannah into the seat beside him and lean in, muttering worriedly. He poked his head up and seemed to look for someone across the room, and she followed his gaze. Minerva frowned. Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot sat at the Ravenclaw table, half-risen out of their seats as they gazed after Snape and the Carrows. She would hardly have suspected those two to be involved in the slightest way with Longbottom…but, then, if Michael Corner had been in, she reasoned…

"What was that?" Pomona hissed, arriving at the staff table once again.

"Something dreadful must have happened," Horace put in. He was seated a few chairs down the table, his great brow furrowed. "Disagreements aside, I do hope things are all right."

"Honestly, Horace," Minerva snapped impatiently. She leaned closer to Pomona. "Something big has happened."

She nodded nervously. "Should I warn—?"

"Filius and Poppy," Minerva said. "Just those two. Tell them exactly what just happened, and what we suspect. I'll see if I can't get ahold of Remus—or maybe Shacklebolt, find out if something's gone wrong with the Order."

"What if it's got to do with Longbottom?"

"Whether or not it has, I'll bet he and the others know about it," Minerva murmured quietly. Pomona followed her gaze to Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan, who were sitting, quiet and tense, at the Hufflepuff table. The first bell rang, and they both leapt out of their seats, making a hasty exit from the hall.

Minerva started to get up, but Pomona placed a hand on her arm.

"They've got Herbology first," she said. "Calm down. They're not running off."

"They had better not," Minerva mumbled, watching the Hufflepuffs go. On their heels were Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein.

After breakfast, she hurried to her office and sent off Patronuses to Kingsley and Remus, asking for any news they had. She waited for an answer until the last possible moment she could before her lesson began, and very reluctantly went to teach when she had none.

But for the rest of the day, there was something very odd in the air. The entire atmosphere of the castle seemed to crackle with some kind of electricity, a nervous anticipation of something wonderful—or terrible. At first, Minerva had believed that it was her own anxiety getting the better of her, but she was beginning to see it in the students' faces, as well.

Josephine O'Brien was smiling again, even under her half-healed bruises; there were no students taken out of classes by the Carrows, nor did she hear any sound that indicated they were meting out detentions. In fact, for the rest of the morning, the Carrows were absent from the castle entirely. When she spotted a group of sixth year students who should have been in Muggle Studies sitting quietly outside the classroom, Minerva wondered if Alecto and Amycus were still holed up with Snape, dealing with whatever crisis had arisen.

She skipped lunch so that she might wait for a response from Kingsley or Remus, but received none. Famished after many consecutive classes, filled with chattering students who were unwilling to review for their exams, she went down to dinner reluctantly.

Her plan was to return to her office as quickly as possible after eating, but she found that the Carrows had returned, and were patrolling the Great Hall when she arrived. The students at all four tables were completely silent as they ate, an eerie occurrence. But, strangest of all, Snape sat at the head table for the first time in weeks, surveying the room sourly.

Minerva passed up the aisle between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, noting with satisfaction that Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan were still present. She checked the Ravenclaw table, and her heart gave a nervous twitch. She could not see Boot or Goldstein anywhere. She arrived at the head table and checked her pocket watch as she sat down in her customary chair beside Pomona. It was still early; perhaps the Ravenclaws had not yet come down to dinner.

"Have you found anything out?" Pomona whispered, for Snape was uncomfortably close, and could easily overhear.

Minerva shook her head slightly, laying her napkin in her lap.

"It's something bad," Pomona murmured, making a show of serving stew loudly onto her plate. "For them, I mean. Alecto threatened anyone who talks with detention."

Minerva's heart leapt. Perhaps someone—Kingsley, perhaps—had emerged from hiding, been able to deal some blow to the Death Eaters. Or, if she dared to hope, Potter had managed yet another escape…though she didn't see how that could be, unless he had left the safety of Bill Weasley's home…

"Of course he has," she cursed aloud, quite by accident.

Pomona looked startled. "What?"

"It's something to do with Potter," Minerva whispered to her, trying not to be annoyed. This was difficult, as she could see in her mind's eye the mutinous look he always wore when told to stay safely where he was and mind his own business. It was mingled with a demented desire to laugh. "He's gotten away from them again, that's what this is all about."

"Are you sure?" Pomona asked.

"I'll bet anything, that's what it is," Minerva muttered. "I'll try and get down to the village tonight, to ask Aberforth if he's heard any rumors, but…" And suddenly, the bubble of emotion burst. She had no reason to be excited, when Potter's escape had nothing to do with the problems she faced within Hogwarts itself. "Well, I'll see what he's heard, anyway."

Pomona frowned slightly, but did not question her. Minerva did not eat; she did not think she could. She felt foolish for believing that somehow, good news in the outside world would translate into good news for Hogwarts. She stared down at the Carrows, who were prowling among the students like wild animals, and her heart turned into a block of ice.

In war, even good news could be as devastating as bad.

"HEY!"

Minerva started and looked to the doorway of the Great Hall. Terry Boot stood beside Anthony Goldstein, and they were both grinning wildly. Severus rose immediately and began hurrying down from the head table, but Alecto and Amycus seemed too stunned to react, frozen where they stood.

"GUESS WHAT, YOU LOT?" Boot shouted. "HARRY POTTER'S BROKEN INTO GRINGOTTS, AND HE'S ESCAPED ON THE BACK OF A DRAGON! HARRY POTTER IS ALIVE! HE'S ALIVE AND FIGHTING FOR ALL OF US!"

Minerva's jaw dropped, but not because of what Boot had said. Amycus seemed to have come back to life, and before she or any of the students had a moment to react, he strode forward and aimed a punch straight for Boot's face.

There was an immediate uproar. The boy crumpled, but Anthony Goldstein seized him under the arms and yanked him to his feet. His face was covered in blood, but before Snape, Alecto, or Amycus could get any closer, both boys had taken off running. In the Great Hall, an explosion of sound had taken over. Students were on their feet, cheering and screaming.

"What just happened?" Minerva demanded of Pomona, horrified. She looked to Filius, who was actually standing on his chair. _"What just happened?_"

He looked stunned. "I—I haven't any idea!"

Three loud bangs echoed through the Great Hall, and silence fell once more. Snape and the Carrows were staring at the students, their wands out.

"Everyone to their House common rooms immediately!" Snape barked. "Anyone caught in the corridors for the rest of the evening will be punished on the spot!"

"Abbott," Pomona said suddenly, tugging at Minerva's sleeve. "Abbott and Macmillan, look at them."

Minerva followed her gaze to see the two Hufflepuffs cutting and weaving their way through the crowd of students thronging to get out the doors. Alecto seemed to be hunting for them as well, but they dodged her.

"That's it," Pomona said. "They must all be with Longbottom now…"

"What on earth was Boot on about?" Minerva asked quickly. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Snape and the Carrows approaching the staff table.

"It can't be true," Pomona said sensibly. "It's fantastical. But Potter must have done something to make them this angry."

"All of you are to return to your quarters," said Snape's drawling voice. Minerva turned. He, Alecto, and Amycus were facing the staff members gathered round; she, Pomona, Filius, Horace, and a handful of others stared back at him. "None of you are to interact with the students—"

"What, are you scared of a rumor like that?" Septima Vector asked loudly, and Pomona threw her a sharp look. Snape glared coldly at her.

"We have information that a dangerous criminal may be interested in entering Hogsmeade," he said silkily. "For the safety of the students—"

"If it was about their safety, we would be allowed to see them," Minerva interrupted coolly.

Severus's eyes narrowed, and she could almost see the rage he felt overwhelming him. He raised his left hand to point at her. "Minerva, I—"

And at that moment, a most extraordinary thing happened. Alecto and Amycus, who had still been standing on either side of Snape, gave identical convulsive movements, as though they'd been burned; in the same second, Snape dropped his arm and looked wildly around at the staff. "You are all dismissed. Leave. _Now_."

Bemused and bewildered, the knot of teachers broke, and Minerva left the hall with Pomona and Filius. Her mind was racing.

"Dear me," Horace rumbled, shaking his head. "Things don't seem to be going well for the headmaster, do they?"

"Honestly, Horace," Minerva snapped impatiently. She leaned closer to Pomona. "They felt something—those wretched Dark Marks, I know it. It must be Potter."

"How can you know that?" Pomona asked.

"All three of them behaving like that at once, without a word? And what else would they be called for but Potter?" Minerva whispered incredulously. "Pomona, you've seen Severus when that mark burns, you know what he looks like."

A memory of the fleeting spasm of shock and pain that had filled Severus's face for just a fraction of a second, while they had all stood waiting for Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory to emerge from the Triwizard maze, seemed to hang in the air between them.

"You don't think—" Pomona's voice was strangled, "—He's not—he's not coming here? With a castle full of students?"

"No," Minerva said. "Severus was keen on hiding it, the last time. He'll make them go to him…or he'll send a message, something." She stopped and looked around; only Filius was near, listening to her. She addressed Pomona first. "I wonder if you might—"

"Warn Sibyll, of course," Pomona said, and she hurried ahead.

"I'm going to my office to wait for some news from—anybody," Minerva added to Filius. "If I hear something, I'll send word. See if maybe you can have some better luck than I with getting a letter out?"

He nodded once and disappeared as well. Minerva climbed the stairs to her office alone. It took all her restraint to avoid cursing when she saw that there was no Patronus or Floo-call awaiting her inside. She sat down at the desk and impatiently picked up a stack of fourth year essays—no, she had graded those.

She wasted perhaps an hour straightening her desk, pointlessly shuffling papers, trying to decide whether alphabetical organization would best suit her bookcase, and making her entire office neater than it had been in forty years of teaching. Then, because she was fairly certain that she was starting to go mad, she organized her bookcase twice more: once by size, and then back to alphabetical.

Finally, to her overwhelming irritation, she accepted that she was not going to hear from anyone, gave up and entered her private rooms. She flicked her wand moodily and set a roaring blaze in the fireplace, which she had to lower slightly so as to avoid setting the hearthrug aflame, and placed a kettle on to boil. She changed into her nightclothes and spent an unnecessary amount of time combing her hair and twisting it back into a knot.

The kettle began to boil, and Minerva poured herself a cup of tea. She settled comfortably into a chair with a book, trying to force herself to calm down enough to sleep. The carriage clock on her mantelpiece told her that it was half-past eight. That gave her plenty of time to relax and wind down from the day…she had been foolish, she told herself, getting so worked up over nothing…Potter had escaped, and probably Weasley and Granger with him…the fact that Voldemort seemed to know…well, that didn't mean anything…

There was a knock at her office door, and Minerva leapt up, hurrying through the hidden door. She found Pomona and Filius standing on her doorstep.

"I spoke to Sibyll," Pomona said, shaking her head. "Honestly, I never know what she's thinking, that one…"

"Filius, did you—" Minerva began, but he interrupted her.

"Alecto just asked me to let her into Ravenclaw Tower," Filius said.

"What?" Pomona gasped. "You didn't, did you?"

"I didn't have much choice, I'm afraid," he answered anxiously. "She demanded to be let into the common room. I told the students to remain in their dormitories…"

"Well—what did she want?" Minerva asked, confused.

"That's just it, I asked her," Filius insisted. "She told me to leave her alone—rather less politely than that, I admit."

"What?" Pomona repeated. "So she's just sitting up there by herself?"

"They're both acting oddly," he agreed. "Amycus is wandering around, muttering to himself, _and_ they're letting Filch handle patrols tonight."

"What can this mean?" Pomona asked.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Minerva said, leaning against her desk and shaking her head. She looked at Filius. "Is there any way that Terry Boot can have been speaking even the smallest bit of truth?"

"Even if he was, how would it connect to Alecto sitting in Ravenclaw Tower?" Filius asked.

"Perhaps they're keeping lookout for Dumbledore's Army?" Pomona suggested.

"But the last of them are in your House," Minerva said. "And it's too late for them to stop anyone else, I'm sure they've all gone to meet Longbottom by now…"

"Oi."

All three of them started and turned to look through Minerva's open door. Amycus was standing in the corridor. "All staff have been confined to their rooms," he growled.

"We are your peers, Professor Carrow," Filius said indignantly. "You needn't speak to us as though we were students."

"It's all right, Filius," Minerva said disdainfully, feeling a rush of hatred for the lopsided leer on Amycus's lumpy face. "I don't think I'd like to be considered a peer, in this case." She inclined her head graciously to Pomona and Filius. "I shall see you both in the morning. Good night."

Pomona looked furious. "Good night," she mumbled, through gritted teeth, and she left the room, Filius just behind her. Minerva moved to the door as Amycus watched them go.

"Good night, Professor Carrow," she said politely, before banging her door shut in his face.

Angry, her mind chasing itself in exhausted, hopeless circles, she stormed back into her room and sat down once again. She looked at the clock…it was a quarter of nine. Then, because she was furious, because she hated Amycus and Alecto, and Severus, and the ruin to which she had seen Hogwarts reduced, and a million other things, she picked up her book and flung it across the room.

* * *

Minerva started awake, her head jerking up so suddenly that she cricked her neck. She did not remember falling asleep, she realized, massaging the side of her neck painfully. The embers of the fire were dying, and her room was quite dark…but she had had the sensation that someone had spoken to her, and caused her to wake up…

Blearily, she straightened her spectacles and reached for her wand.

"Lumos."

The tip ignited, and she looked around. The lit wand glittered over the carriage clock: it was after ten o'clock.

And then she heard the sound that had awoken her. A man was shouting angrily, somewhere not far away…and she had a very good idea who. Without pausing for a moment (though later, she would wonder how she had had such presence of mind), Minerva seized Elphinstone's pocket watch and her own wedding band, tucking them securely in her pocket, and took off through her office and down the corridor.

Sure enough, it was Amycus Carrow's voice that was echoing through the dark castle, and she followed its sounds all the way to…Ravenclaw Tower. She stopped, listening carefully. Amycus was almost certainly standing at the top of this staircase.

She heard several loud bangs. "ALECTO! If he comes, and we haven't got Potter—d'you want to go the same way as the Malfoys? ANSWER ME!"

Minerva's heart leapt, and she scrambled up the stairs. She arrived at the door and composed her features elegantly just as Amycus began throwing himself bodily against the brass-knockered door, trying to break it down.

"May I ask what you are doing, Professor Carrow?" she demanded imperiously.

He gave her a filthy look. "Trying—to get—through this damned—door!" he roared, partly from pain. He turned to Minerva, baring his teeth. "Go and get Flitwick! Get him to open it, now!"

Minerva couldn't resist it; Amycus looked so enraged that he might go utterly mad. "But isn't your sister in there? Didn't Professor Flitwick let her in earlier this evening, at your urgent request? Perhaps she could open the door for you? Then you needn't wake up half the castle."

Amycus looked ready to throttle her. "She ain't answering, you old besom! _You_ open it! Garn! Do it, now!"

Minerva lifted her eyebrows. "Certainly, if you wish it." She moved past him, ignoring the fact that he stumbled over the hem of her dressing gown trying to get out of her way, and raised the knocker that hung below the bronze eagle.

The bird opened its mouth, and a polite female voice asked, "Where do Vanished objects go?"

Not for the first time, Minerva wondered if Rowena Ravenclaw's trick for her pet students knew who was knocking. It would certainly be a quirk of the castle to make things that much more difficult for people like Amycus and Alecto, who would have no hope of answering a question like this.

"Into nonbeing, which is to say, everything," she said evenly.

"Nicely phrased," replied the eagle, and the handleless door swung open. Minerva caught a glimpse of a few stray Ravenclaws sprinting up the stairs to the dormitories before Amycus shoved past her, his wand out.

He gave a horrible yell, and Minerva saw what it was he was gazing at; his sister was a lifeless heap on the floor. Minerva bent immediately to examine her, while Amycus let out another roar of rage.

"What've they done, the little whelps? I'll Cruciate the lot of 'em till they tell me who did it—and what's the Dark Lord going to say?" His voice went up three octaves, and he strode over to Alecto, hitting his own forehead with his fist. "We haven't got him, and they've gorn and killed her!"

Minerva rolled her eyes, rising again. "She's only Stunned. She'll be perfectly all right."

"No she bludgering well won't!" Amycus bellowed in her face. "Not after the Dark Lord gets hold of her! She's gorn and sent for him, I felt me Mark burn, and he thinks we've got Potter!"

Minerva felt her limbs become ice. "'Got Potter?'" she repeated angrily. "What do you mean, 'got Potter'?"

Amycus didn't seem to have any regard for what he was saying; he was striding about, yanking at fistfuls of his own hair. "He told us Potter might try and get inside Ravenclaw Tower, and to send for him if we caught him!" he shouted.

"Why would Harry Potter try to get inside Ravenclaw Tower?" Minerva demanded furiously. "Potter belongs in my House!"

Amycus gave her another filthy look. "We was told he might come in here! I dunno why, do I?"

But Minerva was not listening, a sudden thought had struck her…but how could she find out if Potter was here, under his Invisibility Cloak, without Amycus knowing…she stared around the room, looking for some ripple of motion, before Amycus suddenly jarred her back to reality.

"We can push it off on the kids," he muttered. "Yeah, that's what we'll do. We'll say Alecto was ambushed by the kids, them kids up there," he continued, his gaze flickering up to the blue-and-gold ceiling, "and we'll say they forced her to press her Mark, and that's why he got a false alarm…He can punish them. Couple of kids more or less, what's the difference?"

Minerva gave a cry of shock, feeling suddenly lightheaded. "Only the difference between truth and lies, courage and cowardice!" She advanced on Amycus, her hand closing around the wand in her pocket. "A difference, in short, which you and your sister seem unable to appreciate. But let me make one thing very clear. You are not going to pass off your _many _ineptitudes on the students of Hogwarts. I shall not permit it."

"Excuse me?" he retorted, stepping suddenly into her space, jamming his ugly, red, piggish face into hers. She was half a head taller, and glared down at him furiously, feeling every ounce of hatred and disgust that she had had in the last seven months boiling over, erupting inside of her…

"It's not a case of what _you'll_ permit, Minerva McGonagall. Your time's over. It's us what's in charge here now, and you'll back me up or you'll pay the price."

And he spat in her face.

Minerva slowly opened her eyes, feeling nauseated, not by the saliva that she could feel spattered across her face and neck, but by the overwhelming hatred that filled her very heart. She prepared to draw her wand, to curse Amycus into oblivion, into something beyond recognition—

"You shouldn't have done that."

As if in slow motion, Minerva turned to see Harry Potter stepping out from beneath his Invisibility Cloak, his wand raised.

"_Crucio!"_

Amycus was lifted off his feet and collided hard with a bookcase, shattering the glass across the floor before he crashed to the ground, unmoving as his sister. Minerva clapped a hand over her heart, which seemed to have forgotten how to beat, and faced Potter, whose face was bright red.

"I see what Bellatrix meant," he said furiously, "you need to really mean it."

Minerva gaped at him, still holding one hand at her throat. "Potter!"


	26. Chapter 26

Ahh, the culmination of Minerva's bada$$ery. :) The Battle proper is next, kids! PUT ON YOUR HELMETS!

* * *

"Potter—you're here!" Minerva gasped. "What—? How—?" She drew a steadying breath, and suddenly her brain seemed to register what had just happened. She became upset—never before had a student used an Unforgivable Curse in front of her. "Potter, that was foolish!"

"He spat at you," Harry answered, and Minerva had to hold back a desire to laugh and hug this strange, strange boy, whom, she had not realized until this moment, she had seriously believed she would never see again.

"Potter, I—that was very—very gallant of you—but don't you realize—?"

"Yeah, I do," he interrupted calmly. Now that she had a better look at him, she saw his hair was long, unkempt, and shaggy, and his hands, unshaven face, and neck were covered with half-healed scorches and burns. He was staring at her seriously. "Professor McGonagall, Voldemort's on the way."

Minerva's heart stopped, but that was nothing next to—

"Oh, are we allowed to say the name now?"

Luna Lovegood, looking thinner and paler than Minerva had ever seen her, but smiling calmly, materialized out of thin air, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak. Minerva's knees gave out, and she dropped into a chair.

"I don't think it makes any difference what we call him," Harry said to Luna, "he already knows where I am." And suddenly, he winced, shaking his head as though trying to clear it of water.

"You must flee," Minerva said, reaching out to him. "Now, Potter, as quickly as you can!"

"I can't," he said flatly, and Minerva felt the swell of annoyance she always associated with Potter and his friends. "There's something I need to do. Professor, do you know where they diadem of Ravenclaw is?"

This non sequitur was jarring for Minerva's brain, which was finally clunking back into motion. "The d-diadem of Ravenclaw?" she repeated. "Of course not—hasn't it been lost for centuries? Potter, it was madness, utter madness, for you to enter this castle—"

"I had to," Harry insisted. "Professor, there's something hidden here that I'm supposed to find, and it _could_ be the diadem—if I could just speak to Professor Flitwick—"

There was a groan and a tinkle of glass; Amycus was stirring where he lay on the floor. Minerva rose at once, wiping her face with her sleeve, and raised her wand.

"_Imperio."_ The bizarre feeling that Minerva truly detested—it had been many, many years since the last time she had used this curse, and she had hated it then, too—shot down her arm. But she instructed Amycus to fetch his sister's wand and relinquish it and his own to her. Then he lay down obediently on the floor directly beside Alecto, and Minerva flicked her wand again to bind them tightly with shimmering, silver ropes.

Then she faced Harry and Luna again.

"Potter, if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does indeed know that you are here—" He gave another wince and gasp of pain, one hand flying up to press against the lightning scar on his forehead. "Potter, are you all right?"

"Time's running out," he said desperately, and it seemed that forcing himself to stay focused was a terrible effort, "Voldemort's getting nearer. Professor, I'm acting on Dumbledore's orders, I must find what he wanted me to find! But we've got to get the students out while I'm searching the castle—it's me Voldemort wants, but he won't care about killing a few more or less, not now—" he stopped suddenly, and Minerva had the feeling that he was hiding something from her.

But like a potion, the mention of Albus's name filled her with a sudden rush of warmth that she had not felt for a very long time. "You're acting on _Dumbledore's _orders?" she repeated. She straightened her back proudly. "We shall secure the school against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while you search for this—this object."

Harry looked stunned. "Is that possible?"

She arched an eyebrow. Some things never changed. "I think so. We teachers are rather good at magic, you know. I am sure we will be able to hold him off for a while if we all put our best efforts into it." Then something struck her, two major obstacles… "Of course, something will have to be done about Professor Snape—"

"Let me—"

"—and if Hogwarts is about to enter a state of siege, with the Dark Lord at the gates, it would indeed be advisable to take as many innocent people out of the way as possible. With the Floo Network under observation, and Apparition impossible within the grounds—"

"There's a way!" Harry cried. "Neville Longbottom and a bunch of others—they've been using a secret passage that formed out of the Room of Requirement—they've been getting food and news out of the Hog's Head—"

"A passage?" Minerva repeated. "But—" She wanted to laugh. That was why Aberforth had refused to help her. He had already met Longbottom. But even Aberforth's tiny pub wouldn't protect everyone, if only because there was no room. "Potter, we're talking about hundred of students—"

"I know, Professor, but if Voldemort and the Death Eaters are concentrating on the school boundaries they won't be interested in anyone who's Disapparating out of the Hog's Head."

Minerva paused. "There's something in that." She nodded once and turned to the Carrows again, raising her wand. A silvery net fluttered down and wrapped them both tightly up before hoisting them to dangle from the ceiling. She stuffed both of their wands in her pocket and turned away.

"Come," she said to Potter. "We must alert the other Heads of House. You'd better put that Cloak back on." She strode for the door and raised her wand; her tabby cat Patronus multiplied itself into three and shot off to find Horace, Pomona, and Filius.

Minerva led the way through the corridors, concentrating on getting to the Great Hall. She could hear the faintest shuffling behind her, indicating that Potter and Lovegood were keeping pace. She rounded a dark corner, and stopped. She lifted her wand slightly.

"Who's there?" she called, though she knew the answer already…the moment had arrived, her plan was only half-formed…but it was too late to turn back.

"It is I."

Severus crept out of the shadows, where he seemed to have been lurking as a piece of the darkness itself. Minerva watched him, unblinking.

"Where are the Carrows?" he asked smoothly.

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus," she replied. For a moment, he looked into the darkness behind her, and she knew that he believed Potter to be in the castle, just as Amycus had.

"I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder," he said softly.

"Really?" Minerva asked loftily. "And what gave you that impression? Oh—" she said in a cold voice, when Severus's left arm gave a tic, "—but naturally. You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot."

She met those pitiless black eyes, and had the sudden, terrible impression that this was precisely the scene Potter had witnessed almost one year ago, the night that Albus had died…but that would not happen again. Snape returned to gazing into the space behind her, as though he expected Potter to show himself.

"I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva," he said.

Minerva glared at him. "I thought I heard a disturbance," she lied.

"Really? But all seems calm." He met her eyes suddenly, and she tried to snap her mind shut. "Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist—"

It had been over a decade since Minerva had had a proper duel with a worthy opponent, but she sprang into this one as though she had trained all her life for this one second. She fired a powerful curse at Snape, but he deflected it, and she was nearly knocked over—fine, then. He wanted a different kind of duel: old-fashioned, vicious, and a thousand times more dangerous than flying curses. She could do that.

The pounding anger she had felt—could it have been just yesterday?—filled her heart again. She twirled her wand and ripped the flames from the nearby brazier torch, bringing them down in a fiery circle, a rope to bind Snape—

But the fire became a snake—she blew it apart and turned it into a cloud of flying daggers—one for each of her students, each of his wrongs, and lies, and cruelties—Snape could not get out of the way fast enough—he leapt behind a suit of armor, flinching as the knives sank into the breastplate.

"Minerva!"

She barely heard Filius, who was racing up the corridor with Pomona, both with their wands drawn. She was focused on Snape, who was trying to free himself from the armor and get a clear shot at Minerva—

"No!" Filius squealed. "You'll do no more murder at Hogwarts!" He slashed his wand through the air as he ran.

With an echoing clang, the suit of armor closest to Snape came to life at the touch of Filius's spell, and began to wrestle with him, binding him from casting a new curse at Minerva—he flung it off of himself and bolted, fleeing from Minerva and the others, who chased him down the corridor and into a classroom.

She skidded inside, her wand aloft, ready to keep fighting—and stopped. Snape was perched halfway on the windowsill. He was going to jump. "Coward!" she screamed. He gave her a malevolent sneer and leapt directly through the window. _"COWARD!"_

She ran forward, prepared to seize him, stop him—then, with a sickening lurch, she saw him taking flight, soaring off into the night air…it was a thousand times more terrible to behold than anything that Remus could have told her…

"What's happened, what's happened?" asked disembodied voice, and Minerva turned to see Potter, leading Lovegood by the hand into the classroom, as she pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

"He jumped," she said bitterly, ignoring the cries of shock from Pomona and Filius at their sudden appearance.

"You mean he's _dead_?" Harry demanded, darting to the window.

"No, he's not dead," she said, pointing. "Unlike Dumbledore, he was still carrying a wand…but he seems to have learned a few tricks from his master."

For a moment, a look of uncharacteristic hatred flickered over Harry's features, and he swore under his breath.

Then, huffing and puffing, Horace arrived in the room. "Harry!" he cried in shock. "My dear boy…what a surprise…Minerva, do please explain…Severus…what…?"

"Our headmaster is taking a short break," Minerva said crisply, gesturing to the broken window, and Horace looked shocked.

He stammered something that Minerva didn't hear, for Potter gave a sudden yell. "Professor!" He clapped both hands to his forehead. "Professor, we've got to barricade the school, he's coming now!"

Minerva felt a thrill of horror…Potter was seeing directly into the Dark Lord's mind, even more so than Albus had ever thought… "Very well," she said, facing Pomona and the others. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is coming. Potter has work to do in the castle on Dumbledore's orders. We need to put in place every protection of which we are capable while Potter does what he needs to do."

"You realize, of course, that nothing we do will be able to keep out You-Know-Who indefinitely?" Filius squeaked.

"But we can hold him up," Pomona said firmly.

"Thank you, Pomona," said Minerva, with a rush of affection and gratitude. "I suggest we establish basic protection around the place, then gather out students and meet in the Great Hall. Most must be evacuated, though—" she paused for a half-second, and swallowed— "if any of those who are over age wish to stay and fight, I think they ought to be given the chance."

Pomona looked as though she wanted to smile. She headed for the door. "Agreed. I shall meet you in the great Hall in twenty minutes with my House." She began ticking things off on her hands as she hurried out into the corridor. "Tentacula. Devil's Snare. And Snargaluff pods….yes, I'd like to see the Death Eaters fighting those."

"I can act from here," said Filius firmly, stepping up to the broken window and aiming his wand out of it. Harry hurried over to him. "_Cave Inimicum…Protego Maxima…Fianto Dure…_"

"Professor," he said quickly, "Professor, I'm sorry to interrupt, but this is important. Have you got any idea where the diadem of Ravenclaw is?"

"_Protego Horribilis_—the diadem of Ravenclaw?" Filius repeated. "A little extra wisdom never goes amiss, Potter, but I hardly think it would be much use in _this_ situation!"

Harry looked frustrated, and Minerva caught his eye, trying to indicate that it was time for them to go. "I only meant—do you know where it is? Have you ever seen it?"

"Seen it?" Filius squeaked. "Nobody has seen it in living memory! Long since lost, boy!"

Harry ground his teeth; he was clearly thinking hard. Minerva stepped in. "We shall meet you and your Ravenclaws in the Great Hall, Filius!" she called, and she gestured for Luna and Harry to follow her.

"My word," said Horace, and Minerva stopped before she had reached the door. She faced him. "What a to-do! I'm not at all sure whether this is wise, Minerva. He is bound to find a way in, you know, and anyone who has tried to delay him will be in most grievous peril—"

Minerva glared at him. "I shall expect you and the Slytherins in the Great Hall in twenty minutes, also," she said fiercely. "If you wish to leave with your students, we shall not stop you." She drew a breath and did not blink, staring coldly into Horace's nervous face. "But if _any_ of you attempt to sabotage our resistance or take up arms against us within this castle, then, Horace, we duel to kill."

"Minerva!" he gasped.

"The time has come for Slytherin House to decide upon its loyalties," she said viciously. "Go and wake your students, Horace." She strode out of the room, ignoring his incoherent splutters. She was tired of his indecision and equivocation. She would force him to act now if it was the last thing she ever did.

She stopped in the middle of the corridor and raised her wand. She had never tried a spell like this on such a large scale—a chessboard was hardly anything compared to what she was about to do—and she was strangely excited for it. "_Piertotum_—" a gasping, wheezing noise came from behind her, and she whirled around. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Filch, not _now_—"

"Students out of bed! Students in the corridors!" he cried, and Minerva resisted a desire to jinx him.

"They're supposed to be, you blithering idiot!" An idea had just struck her. "Now go and do something constructive! Find Peeves!"

"P-Peeves?" Filch stammered.

"Yes, _Peeves_, you fool, _Peeves_!" Minerva shouted, furious that she hadn't thought of finding the poltergeist before now. "Haven't you been complaining about him for a quarter of a century? Go and fetch him, at once!"

Filch looked at her as though she had gone mad, but stumped off, muttering to himself with his vile cat trailing after him.

Minerva shook herself and faced the suits of armor and statues that lined the corridor, mustering all of her concentration. "And now—_Piertotum Locomotor!"_

With an echoing, clanging crash that sounded through all seven floors of the castle, the occupants of the alcoves all down the corridor leapt off their plinths and stood at attention before her. Minerva felt a surge of electricity in her veins. She raised her arms and shouted, "Hogwarts is threatened! Man the boundaries, protect us, do your duty to our school!"

With a war cry, the statues charged past her, brandishing weapons and swinging heavy limbs of marble. She ducked a few flying swords and maces and approached Harry again. "Now, Potter, you and Miss Lovegood had better return to your friends and bring them to the Great Hall—I shall rouse the other Gryffindors."

Harry nodded and hurried up the nearest staircase with Luna, heading for the Room of Requirement, and Minerva began sprinting for Gryffindor Tower.

"The castle is under siege," she cried to the Fat Lady. "Wake the other portraits, we are convening in the Great Hall."

"Right away," said the Fat Lady, allowing the portrait hole to open. Minerva scrambled inside and found her entire house, pajama-clad and carrying wands, standing at attention. For a moment, they all just stared at her.

"Is it a fight?" asked Geoffrey Hooper. "Are they coming?"

"All of you, fetch your cloaks. You are leaving the school." Frightened looks and whispers circulated around the room, but there was a dash to get up the stairs and back down as quickly as possible. Minerva made a quick count. "All right, line up at once and follow me to the Great Hall. First years at the front, with any prefects I've still got," she ordered, and Josephine O'Brien seized Evelyn Alistair and Carmichael Wallace by the hands, standing firmly in front of Minerva. "Come on, quickly."

Minerva led the line of Gryffindors to the staircases, where they ran into Filius and the Ravenclaws. The students immediately began chattering excitedly. "The charms are up?" Minerva asked.

"As well as they can be," he answered. "But Minerva, I'm worried—"

"Numbers," Minerva agreed. "I don't know what we'll do if they outnumber us, either, but we've got to try."

"Agreed," Filius said, furrowing his brow. "Perhaps—"

"_What?_" Minerva gasped. They had just entered the Great Hall, where the Hufflepuffs were already waiting.

"Didn't think we'd miss this, did you, Professor?" called Oliver Wood. He stood before the staff table with Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Parvati and Padma Patil, Lavender Brown, stood beside them with Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Anthony Goldstein, their wands drawn. Longbottom gave her a grin from beneath his wounds that had still not healed. Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, and Susan Bones stood beside him.

"How did you get here?" Minerva cried. Filius was shepherding her students and his own to their House tables.

"It doesn't matter now, Minerva," said Kingsley, with a reassuring grasp on her arm, "We are here. Remus, Molly, and Arthur are here, too."

"We have a chance," Minerva said, patting his hand.

He nodded once. "More than a chance."

At that moment, Horace appeared, leading the Slytherins in. Many of them were looking sulky and annoyed, and Horace still looked incredibly unsure of himself. As they settled down, Minerva turned to Kingsley and the overage students.

"All right. We're going to break into groups, that will be easiest," she said. "Kingsley, you'll lead one and—you said Remus is here? With the two of you…and Pomona, Filius and I…"

Kingsley seemed to be following her train of thought. "Arthur, as well. We can all take groups to the grounds—and the towers."

"Let us teachers handle the Towers, we can get in most easily," she said.

"Fine," said Kingsley. "Arthur, Remus and I will lead the groups on the grounds. That leaves Molly and any other staff who stay to be ready for fighting in the castle."

"That does sound like fun."

Minerva spun and saw Fred and George Weasley—for the first time with his missing ear—grinning at her, and with them was a tearstained and red-faced—

"Percy!" she gasped.

"Hello, Professor," he said in a watery voice. "Would you like some help?"

"We are 'ere," said an accented voice, and Minerva saw Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley arriving, followed by their parents.

"Of course we are," said Molly, approaching Minerva and squeezing her hand.

Remus stepped forward, looking very strained. Minerva touched his arm, feeling suddenly terrified. "Are you sure?" she asked. "The baby—"

"Is safe with Dora. My place is here," he said seriously. "This is where I belong."

Minerva nodded. "With your colleagues."

He gave half a grin. "Absolutely."

"Harry's here," said Molly, pointing to the Gryffindor table, where Potter seemed to be searching for someone—it occurred to Minerva suddenly that she had not seen Hermione Granger or Ron Weasley, and she felt a little prickle of fear. "We should get started, we don't have much time." She took Arthur's hand and gestured for her sons to follow, and they all hurried down to the Gryffindor table. Dumbledore's Army and the other overage students scattered to their respective Houses as well, and after a moment, Minerva stood with just the Heads of House and Kingsley on her either side. The rest of the staff stood behind her.

Minerva nodded once and raised her wand. She fired a few sparks in the air, and chatter ceased immediately. All eyes were on her. "Hogwarts is under attack," she said bluntly. She gestured to Pomona, Filius, and Horace. "And we, as your teachers, have a duty to your safety. You are to be evacuated at once—"

A hand touched her shoulder, and she saw Poppy standing with a contingent of the rest of the staff, grim-faced and ready.

"If you are under seventeen, you are leaving this castle tonight, with no exceptions," Minerva shouted. "We have use of a secret passage of which no one else is aware. It leads directly to Hogsmeade, where you will stay until you can be moved to a safer location, with the help of your teachers. The evacuation will be overseen by Mr. Filch and Madam Pomfrey." She caught Poppy's eye—she nodded in agreement. "Prefects, when I give the word, you will organize your House and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point."

"And what if we want to stay and fight?" shouted Ernie Macmillan from the Hufflepuff table.

"If you are of age, you may stay," Minerva said, and she could see a few mutinous looks among the Gryffindors.

"What about our things? Our trunks, our owls?" called Lisa Turpin.

"Where's Professor Snape?" demanded Astoria Greengrass.

Minerva lifted her chin slightly. "He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk."

A cheer rose up from every table, every corner of the room, except where the Slytherins were glaring sourly at their classmates. Minerva raised both hands, trying to quiet them.

"We have already placed protection around the castle, but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it," she said. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Potter, creeping up and down the Gryffindor table as though he were hunting for someone. She frowned. "I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects—"

A sudden, horrible chill overtook her, and she knew what was happening a split second before it happened. A terrible, freezing voice drove through the castle walls, shaking the stones and rattling the windows with its force. It was deafening, and the entire room lost ten degrees in less than a second. Students began to scream; Minerva saw several young girls at the Ravenclaw table burst into tears.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

Voldemort's voice seemed to echo in Minerva's very skull, like a throbbing headache, but beneath it, she felt only anger and defiance. There was a long stretch of silence, but Minerva knew he had not finished.

"Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed."

She closed her eyes, and felt a hand seize her own; it was Poppy's, ice-cold and shaking.

"Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded."

There was a second, ringing silence, and Minerva opened her eyes to see more students weeping, their heads buried in their arms or embracing each other tightly. At the Gryffindor table, Molly was clinging to Arthur, her face white under the twinkling stars of the enchanted ceiling.

"You have until midnight."

And the voice vanished again. The temperature seemed to rise again, but the Great Hall was completely silent. Minerva felt a sick sort of pressure building, and like everyone else, she looked at Potter. He stood, a skinny (he looked thoroughly underfed, and the effect of the burns on his face did not help) seventeen-year-old wearing clothes he had outgrown ages since, staring back at his former classmates.

"Merlin's beard," Pomona whispered.

"But he's there!" Minerva looked around and saw Pansy Parkinson standing on a chair at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy and his cronies sat around her, but did not seem to want to look up. "Potter's _there!"_ she screeched, pointing dramatically across the hall at Harry. "Someone grab him!"

"No," Minerva gasped, when there was a sudden movement—and then she saw it. Gryffindor first, all the way down to Josephine O'Brien, who stood on a chair because she was so small, and then the Hufflepuffs, and then the Ravenclaws had all risen and formed a protective wall between Pansy and Harry. A few older students drew their wands menacingly.

Minerva's heart swelled with pride, and she shared a joyous look with those who stood nearest to her. Poppy's eyes were full of tears. Minerva stepped forward and said tartly, with no small amount of satisfaction,

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson. You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow."

Horace, looking very ashamed of himself, stepped forward and faced Minerva, who regarded him calmly. "I'll—I'll just…see them out," he rumbled.

"Farewell, Horace," she answered. He made no argument, though he seemed to struggle with words for a moment before deciding to just hurry after his House.

"We've got a plan," Kingsley murmured in Minerva's ear. He, Remus, and Arthur had just ended a conference, and his face was grim and set. She nodded once.

"As soon as they're out," she whispered back. "Ravenclaws, follow on!" she shouted. She saw nine overage students keep their seats at the table, but when Hufflepuff departed, more than twenty stayed behind. She caught Pomona's eye and gave a faint, grateful smile.

Then she saw the Gryffindor table. "Get started," she said sharply to Kingsley, and descended from the head table. She spotted three fourth years straight away. "Abercombie, get along! All of you—Vane, Hooper, Frobisher! Go!" Then, with a shock, she saw a face that she had never expected to see again. "Colin," she stammered, and the boy beamed at her. Then she hardened her expression. "Absolutely not, Creevey, go! And you, Peakes! Coote, get on!"

Reluctantly, Colin Creevey left with Jimmy Peakes and the second wave of Gryffindor evacuees, and Minerva watched them go. Kingsley was talking, and she turned around; Pomona and Filius were already counting heads, trying to find out who would go to which teams.

"We'll need somebody to organize defense of the passageways into the school," Kingsley said, and Fred and George Weasley stood up at the same moment.

"Sounds like a job for us!" Fred called, and Kingsley nodded.

"All right," he shouted, "leaders up here and we'll divide up the troops."

Minerva hurried forward, but was stunned to see Harry Potter still lingering by the Gryffindor table, looking annoyed, as though he were terribly lost. "Potter," she said, seizing his shoulder. "_Aren't you supposed to be looking for something?"_

He didn't seem to understand her at first, but then his face lit up suddenly. "What? Oh—oh, yeah!" Minerva bit back a cry of exasperation.

"Then go, Potter, go!" she insisted, giving him a small push towards the door of the Great Hall.

"Right—yeah—"

She hurried up to the staff table, where her team had assembled themselves: Lavender Brown, Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang, and Parvati Patil. All four looked fierce and determined—though for Luna, perhaps it was just the absence of her dreamy smile.

Minerva nodded. "Come on, you four. We're going to Gryffindor Tower."


	27. Chapter 27

Well, I think we all know what this means.

I finished.

I'm kind of in shock.

But I do have something cool that I want to do with these last eleven chapters. I'm going to post them roughly every twelve hours for the next three days so that the Epilogue, the last chapter, falls on the second of December. Apart from some special personal meaning involved with that date, it will be the anniversary of the day I published this story, the second of May. Seven months, precisely. Tell me that's not eerie.

That being said, I'm going to do something I don't do very often, and ask that if you are among those people-those beautiful, beautiful people (you know who you are)-who have taken the time to review each chapter-please afford the same time, even if it's just ten words, to these upcoming chapters. They aren't as long as the rest. As Shirekat can attest, I have poured pretty much every last shred of my effort and sanity into finishing this project (when was the last time I delayed posting this long?!). Your reviews, your feedback, is what's going to make it worth it for me. So even if you wake up tomorrow with three new chapter reviews-please. I am literally begging you for approval. I don't do that. But I'm doing it now.

Okay. I love you all so, so much. I hope you like it. It's taken me...pretty much the entirety of the last twenty-two days to compose this finale.

Love!

Lucy

* * *

Dean grinned at Seamus as they followed Professor Flitwick and their team to Ravenclaw Tower. The castle was eerily quiet, a bizarre calm before the storm.

"You're looking good, mate," Dean joked, and Seamus elbowed him.

"Well, we couldn't all take a couple months' vacation, could we?"

Dean smirked. They arrived at a winding staircase where Professor Flitwick, followed by Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, hurried up out of sight.

"After you," he said, with a slight bow, and Seamus aimed another elbow at him. "Oi, not before the Death Eaters get a chance!"

Seamus snorted and clambered up the stairs. Dean followed him all the way up, where the door to the Ravenclaw common room stood open.

"Come on, Finnigan, Thomas," squeaked Professor Flitwick from within. "Take a window and prepare yourselves—we've got about five minutes until midnight." They picked up their pace and entered the room in time to see Flitwick directing the obviously confused and befuddled Carrows to leave the tower.

"Shouldn't we keep them tied up, Professor?" Seamus asked bitterly, but Flitwick shook his head.

"If the Tower falls under siege, we would be leaving them to die," he said firmly. "I won't do that."

Dean glanced at Seamus, who looked for a moment as though this sounded perfectly all right to him; considering what remained of his best friend's face, Dean could hardly blame him.

"Where will they go?" Dean asked.

"I'm taking them to a broom cupboard and locking them in," Flitwick answered calmly. "Professor McGonagall still has their wands. They're quite harmless now. Take a position at the window, will you?"

Dean gave a little snort and shared a glance with Seamus. As Flitwick followed the meekly shuffling Carrows down the spiral staircase, they both hurried forward to the enormous windows of Ravenclaw Tower, which overlooked the edge of the grounds and the Quidditch pitch.

"All right, you two?" Seamus asked Terry and Anthony, and Dean grinned at them, handling his wand nervously.

"Just as long as you two don't start showing off and stealing all the glory," Anthony answered with a smirk. He looked at Terry and shook his head. "How we got paired with a couple of Gryffindors, mate, I ask you…"

"Good luck, then," Seamus said with a nod.

"You too," Anthony answered.

"Two minutes to go, gentlemen!" Flitwick had come hurrying back into the room, and was flicking his wand wildly; a stack of books assembled themselves on the floor—Seamus and Dean on one side, Terry and Anthony on the other. "I want Stunning Spells and Shield Charms," Flitwick was saying as he climbed up to stand on the books. "Be as certain as you can when choosing a target—our fighters are down there too, but if you do hit anyone, it won't be lethal." He consulted his watch and flicked his wand once; the windows creaked open, scattering centuries of dust and rust into the night air.

"I think a good rule is to aim for the ones who are aiming at us," Anthony muttered, and Seamus and Dean snickered.

"Just be ready," Flitwick said warningly. He pointed with his wand. "They've begun."

He was right. Down on the grounds, Dean could hear screams and yells echo through the night. Dashes of bright lights and colors flickered here and there, but he couldn't spot anyone who looked as though they were trying to get into the castle, nor anyone who seemed to be clearly defending it. He clutched the wand he had taken, a spare obtained from Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had had a run-in with some Snatchers. It did not feel right in his hand; would it work at all?

He glanced at Seamus, who was looking unusually grim beneath the bruises and gashes on his face. Terry Boot raised his wand suddenly, leaning forward.

"Wait," warned Flitwick, "wait a moment longer…_there! _Coming out on the side of the Quidditch stands, you see? _Go!_"

Dean shouted, "_Stupefy!_" and three other voices echoed around him. The jets of red light rocketed down from the tower, but no one waited to see if they hit their marks; taking their lead from Flitwick, Dean and the others shouted jinxes without stopping; if any Death Eaters looked up and saw where the spells came from, they would be sitting targets, and so they could not delay.

It took nearly ten minutes for anyone below to discover the source of the phantom spells, and so in a great burst, they received their first return fire. With a yell, Professor Flitwick toppled backward off of his stack of books, diving out of the way just in time as a jet of green light soared through the window collided with a bookcase. There was a small explosion that rocked the whole room, and a piece of the ceiling caved in. The collapsed bookshelf burst into flames.

Dean and the others were thrown off their feet, but he was first up and scrambled over to the fire. "_Aguamenti!_" he screamed, but nothing happened. He stared down at his wand. "_Aguamenti!_"

"Thomas, get that under control!" Flitwick shouted, as he pulled Anthony, who had been hit by a flying piece of broken ceiling and knocked unconscious, out of the way of the windows.

"_Aguamenti!_" Seamus bounded over a broken chair and doused the fire at once. "What's going on?" he demanded of Dean.

"I don't know!" Dean cried, smacking the wand against his hand. His fear was overwhelming him. "It's this bloody—stupid wand—it's not working!"

"Never mind that, we're abandoning this post," said Professor Flitwick urgently. "Thomas, find yourself a working wand—that one's no good, you'll have to win one from somebody else—Goldstein, help Boot—"

Dean started forward to help support Anthony, who was coming around, propped up on Terry's shoulder, but Flitwick grabbed his arm.

"Go ahead of us!" he squeaked. "It's important you have a wand, go!"

Seamus caught Dean's eye and nodded.

"Okay."

He bolted off down the staircase, and felt the castle rock with another explosion somewhere out on the grounds. He steadied himself against the wall and kept running, when he collided with an old woman who caught him by the shoulders.

"Have you seen my grandson?" she barked, and Dean gaped at her for a moment. He had seen clothes like this before…

"Who—N-Neville?" he asked, and she nodded.

"He went with Sprout to the Astronomy Tower, but they'll be long gone by now," he told her. "That way!"

Mrs. Longbottom thanked him and ran on. Dean looked around desperately; where could he find a wand?

"Hey, come with me!"

* * *

"Go with Thomas and help him find a wand!" Professor Flitwick squeaked as they all struggled down the stairs. "Go, Finnigan!" He aimed a Sealing Jinx at the door of the Ravenclaw common room and it squelched shut.

"Go, I've got him," said Terry Boot, hefting his best friend onto his shoulder. Anthony was awakening again, but looked groggy and unaware of his surroundings.

Seamus didn't need telling again, and he leapt down the rest of the stairs, looking wildly around for Dean; a flash of green caught his eye—a woman in a long chartreuse dress had just disappeared around a corner, and a few feet away from her was Dean.

A rush of relief filled Seamus, and he seized Dean's shoulder. "Hey, come with me!" he shouted, and Dean looked around, at first in shock, and then with a grateful smile.

"Thanks, mate!" he shouted, and Seamus grinned.

"It's going to be all right—we just need to get you a wand," he panted, as they ran along a corridor. "I've got an idea—" He choked on his last words as Dean seized him by the neck and yanked him to the floor. A jinx sailed directly through a broken window and collided with the two stone gargoyles that guarded the staffroom; they exploded instantly, and the staffroom door was scorched and smoking.

Seamus sat up, massaging his throat. "Thanks," he gasped. He offered Dean a hand to get up. "Come on, follow me."

He led the way down the corridor. The castle quaked every few seconds, and Seamus was on high alert.

"Do you hear that?" Dean said suddenly, throwing an arm out to stop him. "Listen…"

Seamus nodded, listening over the din of shouts and explosions, "Sounds like…"

"Mandrakes! Look out, you lot!" roared a new voice.

Seamus looked around just in time to leap out of the way; Neville Longbottom, Professor Sprout, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, who had a bleeding wound on one cheek, were tearing down the corridor together, potted plants in hand. The Mandrakes did not seem to like being carried in such a manner, and their screaming was faintly audible, even through the soil.

Seamus and Dean ran quickly out of the way, rounded a corner, and found—

"Bloody hell!" Seamus roared, deflecting a stray jinx from one of about thirty duels happening in the entrance hall, which had fallen into total chaos. Death Eaters had penetrated the castle, and now fought students and teachers up and down the stairs, ducking behind open doors and blasting holes into portraits. Owls were circling overhead, swooping down and attacking the masked fighters with cruel beaks and claws.

The Death Eater whose duel Seamus had just interrupted had found his new mark; Seamus kept one eye on him as he ran up the staircase, but he was also watching Dean, who was shocked and unarmed, pressed against a wall. He seemed to have frozen.

"Let's get you a wand, mate," Seamus shouted over the roar of shouts and screams. _"Protego!"_ The approaching Death Eater's curse had come worryingly close this time, and Seamus turned to face him. "Come on, Dean!" he shouted, willing him to recover his independent movement; he did not think he could bear it if Dean died tonight—not after they had both survived this long—

"DEAN! NOW!" Seamus bellowed, ducking the Death Eater's next curse, which hit the banister and blasted part of it away. _"Tarantallegra!"_ he screamed, but the Death Eater blocked the curse. His hood fell off, revealing a thickly-bearded face and brutal, cold eyes…

He raised his wand. _"Avada—"_

But he did not finish the curse, as he was rugby-tackled sideways. Dean wrestled with him, snatching his wand away from him.

"_STUPEFY!"_ Seamus bellowed, and the jet of red light knocked the Death Eater out immediately. He slid down a few steps on the marble staircase. Seamus looked at his best friend, who seemed to have become re-energized. He was looking at the wand in his hand as though it had given him new life.

"Let's go!" Dean shouted, and he and Seamus plunged into the madness of the duels below.

* * *

"Bring him here!" Poppy cried, as Filius stumbled in the door, supporting a student who was barely conscious. "Who—?"

"Anthony Goldstein," Filius said, "He's had a blow to the head."

Explosions from the entrance hall rocked the Great Hall, and Poppy grabbed hold of the boy, supporting him to sit at the nearest table.

"Goldstein," she said, lifting his eyelids and peering into his face. "Goldstein, can you hear me?"

He blinked heavily and nodded, his head rolling back and forth.

Poppy nodded at Filius. "Go do what you can, he'll be all right." He looked relieved and grasped her arm for a moment before hurrying away.

"Anthony!" Padma Patil came running over from the table where she had been working and knelt before him. "Anthony, are you all right?"

"Miss Patil, I'll need some of those bandages you've been making," said Poppy matter-of-factly, examining a deep gash at the back of Goldstein's head. "And a Blood-Replenishing Potion."

Padma was not listening—she was holding tightly to Anthony's hands, her eyes full of tears. "Anthony, please—can you say something? Are you—?"

"Miss Patil," Poppy snapped. "Mr. Goldstein will make a full recovery, but you must do as I say!"

Padma was startled, but she wiped away her tears and hurried over to the table full of supplies, where Michael Corner was feverishly stirring a cauldron of numbing potion.

Poppy put an arm behind Goldstein's shoulders and helped him sit up properly. "You mustn't fall asleep, do you understand me?" she asked, and his head lolled forward once, to indicate he understood. "Talk to me, tell me about something—talk to Miss Patil," she said, for Padma had returned, and knelt before Anthony again, taking his hands.

"M'head hurts," he mumbled, reaching up one hand to the gash on his scalp.

"Don't," Poppy said, pushing it away. "Miss Patil, keep him awake and focused."

Padma nodded. "Anthony? Anthony, it's me…"

Poppy pushed back her sleeves and set to work, trying to ignore the echoing cries of pain, the sounds of explosions, the quaking of the entire castle under siege…she could repair this injury—she would, even if she would have to admit defeat in the face of far graver circumstances…

She looked at Padma Patil's fingers linked with Anthony Goldstein, and they seemed to calm her nerves for a moment. She set to work mending the wound. He would be all right.

* * *

"Just rest here," Padma said, rolling back her sleeves and giving Anthony a kiss. "Try not to fall asleep, just in case, but don't move, okay?"

"Blimey, don't ask much, do you?" he chuckled, catching her hand and holding it. In the distance, he could hear the battle raging on—but he had been barred from re-entering until he was no longer bloodless. He took a sip of the extremely sour Blood-Replenishing Potion Padma handed him. "I'm all right, just got a headache. Where are you going? More supplies?"

Padma bit her lip and avoided his gaze. "No, I—I think Madam Pomfrey's got it under control, for now—I—I want to find my sister. Michael and I are going to join in."

Anthony's stomach twisted. "You can't be serious?" he demanded. "You're going out there?"

"I have to, Anthony," she insisted. "I've got to find other ways to help."

"No you bloody well don't! You—you're a Healer—you—you can help here!" he spluttered. "Padma, look what they did to me, and that was an accident! What'll you do if you get in a duel?"

"I'll do my best," she promised, squeezing his hand. "I've got to find Parvati."

Anthony's memories of Padma's frustration, trying to learn to duel properly—it wasn't a lack of skill that endangered her, but her deep-rooted unwillingness to do any real harm to her opponent—and he couldn't bear the thought of losing her because someone else wouldn't be as kind.

Michael hurried over, laying a hand on Padma's arm. "We should go now," he said seriously, avoiding Anthony's gaze.

Padma nodded and faced Anthony again. "I'll come back," she promised, reading the worry in his face and reflecting it twice over. She bent down and kissed him again. "I promise."

And she released his hand and ran down the Great Hall, to the huge doors that led to the entrance hall and the war beyond.

"Padma!" Anthony cried, getting to his feet and starting after her—but he swayed on the spot, and Michael caught his arm and pushed him back into his seat.

They faced each other awkwardly for several moments. Finally, Michael cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I won't let anything happen to her, mate," he said quietly. Then, furtively, he muttered, "I've got to go."

"No—wait," Anthony mumbled, and he staggered to his feet again, trying to seize Michael's arm, to stop him from leaving with Padma—

"Not yet, Goldstein," said Madam Pomfrey soothingly, restraining him. "Calm down."

"Padma!" Anthony shouted again, but her long, dark plait—tied at the end with a glittering bronze ribbon; one that he had given her, after some Ravenclaw Quidditch victory—had vanished through the vast doors, directly after Michael.

* * *

Michael gaped; the entrance hall was full of bawled curses, jets of bright light, and rubble, crashing down from the ceiling and the broken staircases. He ducked a Stunning Spell that hit the wall behind her, showering him with the dust of the stone wall.

"_BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"_ shrieked a female voice, and Michael saw Bellatrix Lestrange standing in the center of the hall, indifferent to the war that surrounded her; she had seen him leave the Great Hall—she knew that there were others, others she could fight, kill, destroy—hidden within, and she wanted them—

Michael felt hatred for her—for everything she stood for—well up inside him. "NO!" he bellowed, flourishing his wand; a jet of fire flew directly at Bellatrix, but she was too quick, she blasted it back at him—he leapt in front of Padma, possessed by the instantaneous, bizarre thought that Anthony would never be the same if she perished—

"_Protego!"_ Padma screamed, leaping from behind his arms, and though the force of Bellatrix's spell threw them both off balance and they tumbled backwards, hitting the marble staircase hard, both she and Michael remained unscathed.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ screamed Bellatrix, and the curse hit inches from where Michael had fallen; she was advancing on them both, her wand raised—

"Run!" he bellowed, seizing Padma's collar and helping her to her feet. "Run, Padma, come on!" They scrambled up the rubble-strewn staircases, ducking the curses that continued to fly over their heads, narrowly missing them—

"_CRUCIO!"_

Just as Bellatrix shouted, Michael and Padma reached the top of the stairs and leapt into an empty alcove.

"_Impedimenta!"_ he shouted, and they heard a yelp that meant the jinx had done its job—for now. He turned to Padma. "I'll lead her away so you can go and find your sister—"

"I can take care of myself!" Padma answered. "And I'm not leaving you!"

"I'll just give you a head start," Michael insisted. "Come on, we haven't got much time!"

"No, Michael—"

A spell hit the wall, taking a huge chunk out of the stone just inches away from Padma's head.

"We're splitting up!" Michael said firmly. "Go find Parvati, and I'll look for you when I've got away from her!"

"Michael!" Padma shouted, but it was no use—he had already ducked out of the alcove. He skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs, barely five feet away from Bellatrix Lestrange.

She gave a low, evil laugh, raising her wand. "Oh, you're a young one…how lovely," she murmured, licking her thin lips. _"Avada—_

"Run, Padma!" Michael shouted, and he dropped to the floor and rolled out of the way of the Killing Curse. Out of the corner of his eye as he leapt up again, he saw Padma running full-tilt down the corridor. _"Stupefy! Impedimenta! Expelliarmus!"_

But Bellatrix deflected him, again and again, and he was getting backed into a corner—his back hit the stones behind him, and in one infinitesimal moment, he knew that he was gone—he squeezed his eyes shut—

There was a horrible scream of pain, and Michael opened his eyes again just in time to see Bellatrix being taken on by a new opponent—a woman with bright pink hair had just hit her with a bright flash of golden light, and was bearing down on her.

"_Run!_" the woman shouted at Michael, as Bellatrix recovered herself, snarling, and fired off a return curse.

"Thanks," Michael gasped, staggering forward.

"Don't mention it, just _go!"_ roared the woman with pink hair, throwing up a Shield Charm just in time to stop Bellatrix's spell.

Michael ran, desperate to find Padma, Terry, or any of his friends; he cast one last look over his shoulder—the woman he did not recognize was winning the duel. Satisfied in this knowledge, he put on a burst of speed, trying to find someone—anyone he could help.


	28. Chapter 28

Padma was in shock; the castle was crumbling around her, falling to pieces as she ran past fighters, Death Eaters, students, teachers—she saw an arm protruding from under a pile of rubble, but she could not stop to indulge the horrible idea that it might be Parvati's. Her eyes filled with tears and she kept running. She had last seen Parvati with Professor McGonagall—her best guess was that they had gone to Gryffindor Tower, and so that was where she ran.

Then, suddenly, with screams that echoed down the corridor, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, who was bleeding quite badly, ran past her—she felt one of them catch her elbow, trying to make her run, too—and she saw what was chasing them. It was a massive beast, a man who could not quite be called a man—Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf.

He was not transformed; it was not the full moon, but his brutal, bloodstained face was alive with evil joy. His yellowish, fang-like teeth dripped blood, and something more solid—flesh, perhaps—and he gave a bone-rattling roar that was unmistakably joyous.

"_STUPEFY!"_ Padma screamed, and the spell hit the werewolf directly in the chest. He howled again, and staggered, but it appeared that he was tough enough to withstand the jinx; in fact, it only caused him to give up the chase of the three Gryffindor girls, and he howled again, rounding on Padma.

She sprinted away, not even bothering to try and hit him a second time; she could hear his pounding footsteps, the insane, hoarse, rasping laughter that tore out of his throat as he closed the space between them—

"_IMPEDIMENTA!"_

Greyback, some ten feet behind her, gave a yelp like a wounded dog, and Padma spun in time to see him hit the wall, brought down by the force of two Impediment Jinxes—Parvati, whose face was covered in blood from a deep wound over her eye, stood side by side with Cho Chang, whose face was twisted in fury.

"Padma, come on!" Parvati screamed, bounding forward and seizing her sister's hand. "Cho, let's go, now!"

"No," Cho murmured, and her eyes were locked on Greyback, who seemed to be regaining consciousness; Padma felt a prickle of fear. She had never seen Cho genuinely angry before. She reached for her hand.

"Cho," she said fiercely. "It won't bring them back—"

"_I don't care!"_ Cho screamed. _"I don't care, I want him—"_

An explosion, somewhere deep within the castle, threw them all off their feet. Parvati and Padma were knocked away from Cho, and the ceiling overhead began to collapse.

"_Protego!"_ Padma yelled, and she dragged her sister out of the way of the falling rubble. "Cho!" she screamed. "Cho!"

"Hello, there…"

Padma whirled around at exactly the same time as Parvati, and they both raised their wands; a man wearing a hood—Pius Thicknesse, Padma recognized him from the newspaper—stood before them, looking delightedly evil.

"Look what I've found, Rookwood," he purred into the shadows over his shoulder, and a hooded figure stepped forward. The eyes behind slits in the black mask glittered maliciously, and the man took another step forward. He twitched his wand at cut on Parvati's eyebrow.

"I expect your mother'll be grateful for that cut," he hissed. "She'll need a way to tell you two apart, when we've finished—"

"Don't move," Parvati whispered. "Wait until I say…"

But Padma was furious—furious that her home was being destroyed, that Cho was almost certainly about to be murdered, and most of all, that she had never managed to truly defeat an opponent in a duel. She would tonight.

"_DEPRIMO!"_ Padma screamed, and the curse collided with the masked Death Eater, who flew ten feet backwards and hit the wall, crumpling to the ground. Thicknesse, his companion, fired off a curse at Parvati, but she was more than ready for him. She gave a yell and began fighting with all of her strength, as Padma ran off after the one called Rookwood, ready to duel.

* * *

"Nice one!" George yelled, clapping Fred on the back as he, Hannah, Percy, and Lee ran away from the secret passage; they had just caved it in on top of a wave of incoming Death Eaters.

"Where next?" Hannah shouted, as they all ducked into an alcove (which usually stored a suit of armor) for safety.

"That was the last one," George told her. "I reckon we ought to stay together—"

"You'll be all right, Ange, you're fine—"

George spun in time to see Alicia and Katie, whose shirt was missing a sleeve, hurrying down the corridor, supporting Angelina, who was bleeding freely from a cut on her face, but even more from an enormous wound on her left arm. Her right arm still clutched her wand.

"Angelina!" he cried, hurrying to meet them. He looked between Alicia and Katie. "What happened?"

"Greyback," Alicia panted, her eyes shining with tears. "He's not transformed, but he clawed her—"

Angelina's face was screwed up in pain, and she was crying—actually crying—George reached for her hand, trying to assess the damage, when the castle was rocked with a massive explosion. Everyone swayed, but Angelina fell to the floor; George caught her, trying to pull her out of harm's way.

He felt Fred's hand descend on his shoulder. "George, get her somewhere safe and figure out how bad it is!" he said. "Al, Oliver's run into some trouble with an acromantula—we're going to go and help!" He gestured between himself, Percy, Lee, and Hannah.

"I'm coming with you," Alicia said immediately, her face whitening. She knelt down beside Angelina and George. "Angie, darling—you'll be all right—I—"

"I'll be fine, it's just my stupid arm. Besides, I've got George," Angelina gasped, grimacing through her tears. "Go find Oliver." George squeezed Angelina's uninjured hand, and she squeezed back.

"Take care of her," Katie said, swiftly kissing George's cheek, and he nodded. She followed Alicia, Hannah, and Lee, who were already running down the corridor.

Fred knelt before Angelina and George, Percy just a half step behind him; George felt a bit guilty, as he still seemed so disconnected, so distant, but he couldn't spare a thought on it now. Fred grinned at Angelina, whom George was propping up in his arms.

"You've still got those Magpies to play for, Johnson," he barked. "I expect you in peak physical shape for summer trials, understand me?"

Angelina gave a pained laugh. "Yes sir!"

George grinned at his brother, who winked. Fred said, "I'll see you in a bit, Georgie—gonna go get Oliver out of his tight spot!"

"What?" George demanded. The grin slid off of his face, and suddenly, everything in the world stopped being funny; Fred could not leave. He could not. They had to stay together. "No—"

"I'll be fine, it's just a dirty great spider," Fred promised. "I'll come right back here and check on you two."

"I'll bring him back, George," said Percy, stepping forward suddenly. For the first time in three years, George had a rush of affection for Percy. He could understand, he, who was closest in age to George and Fred, who knew that they could not be separated—Percy would bring him back.

"Okay," George said, and he seized Fred around the shoulders in a brief hug.

"Take care of your girl, here," Fred said. "See you soon, Ange!"

And he and Percy took off down the corridor, hurrying away from the alcove where George was helping Angelina sit against the wall.

"How bad is it?" George asked, and Angelina held out her left arm. The werewolf had dug three of his claws into the middle of her upper arm and dragged them in a kind of spiral all the way down to the back of her hand; the gashes were bleeding profusely. George saw a piece of cloth—the sleeve of Katie's shirt—tied around Angelina's upper arm.

"So not bad at all, then," he teased, and Angelina fought valiantly to smile. "Don't worry—I'll get you to Madam Pomfrey," he promised. "She'll put this right."

Angelina tipped her head back against the wall and drew a steadying breath. "I'm okay," she breathed, more to herself than to George. "I'm fine."

"Can you stand up?" he asked. "I'll get you to the Great Hall, they've got medical supplies there—"

Angelina threw her uninjured arm around George's neck, and he helped her get up. With the brilliant fire that always burned behind her bright brown eyes during a really difficult game of Quidditch, she stared fiercely back at him. "I'll duel my way there, if I have to."

And, suddenly, George was seized with a mad desire to kiss her—

Another, massive explosion seemed to knock the entire castle off of its foundation, and George had the strangest, most sickening sensation that the world had turned upside down—perhaps that was what had happened, perhaps Hogwarts was tumbling off of its cliff into the lake below.

He flung out one arm, seizing the wall for support, and the other arm closed tightly around Angelina's waist.

"George! George!" she cried, and suddenly, his head stopped spinning; though he still had the horrible sensation that he had just fallen a great distance. Angelina was looking at him—she looked pale, she was losing blood— but _she _was the one watching _him _with great concern. "Are you okay?"

George looked around him. He felt…horrible. He felt as though the bottom of his stomach had just dropped away, like his head was going to suddenly start aching, his insides to turn over, for no reason at all…but everything around him was just as it had been; the war raged on, and the Great Hall was still miles away…and he had to get Angelina there.

"I'm fine," he lied, trying to shake the feeling…he had the terrible, terrible sensation of knowing something horrible had happened, but having forgotten what it was entirely. He didn't know what he had forgotten, but when he remembered, it would be dreadful, it would ruin everything.

"George," Angelina said again, but now, it was not a question, or a worry; it was faint, pained, a plea for help. She had closed her eyes, and swayed a little on the spot.

George pushed away the bad feelings and pulled Angelina close against him, drawing his wand and preparing to face the battle alone.

* * *

"This way!" Fred barked, and Percy was half a step behind him. "C'mon, mate!"

"Are you sure George will be all right?" Percy asked, hurrying along, his wand raised.

Fred nodded, though his mind was still back with his twin. He was strangely worried about leaving George and Angelina; it made him nervous, worried for both of them…and he couldn't handle it if anything happened to George…he couldn't handle being the face of something Angelina loved so much, and had lost…

He pushed the matter from his mind. "George has it under control," he promised Percy confidently. They rounded a corner. "Although I don't know where the hell Alicia and the others have got to. Let's try this—"

"OI!" Percy roared, flicking his wand up just in time to deflect a curse that sailed directly at Fred. Down the corridor, two girls with long, dark braids, one of whom was bleeding profusely from a cut on her face, were dueling with a masked Death Eater, and one whose hood was partially up, his face shadowed.

"Get out of it! Parvati, Padma!" Fred bellowed, all thoughts of finding Oliver pushed from his mind. He ran forward and sent a jinx at the hooded Death Eater, who gave a howl of pain and fell backwards, his legs turned to jelly. His companion stooped to undo the jinx. "Run, you two, and stay together!" Fred barked at the twins—one of them, Padma, gave him a mutinous look, but her sister pulled her along. They sprinted past Percy and away up the corridor. "C'mon, Perce!"

Fred flourished his wand, and began dueling with the recovered Death Eater he had just jinxed; Percy had started in on the other. This man was quick, and dangerous—he fired jinx after jinx and did not take time to deflect. Fred couldn't get a spell in—he backed up, and Percy did the same.

"Let's take them—" Fred began, but Percy seemed to know exactly what to do; if they could get into the wider corridor of the Room of Requirement, they would have the advantage. They would be able to move freely—

"Arghhh!"

Four jets of light had just sailed directly at Percy's Death Eater and knocked back his hood; it was Pius Thicknesse. Fred fired a curse at the one he was dueling, and saw out of the corner of his eye, Harry, Ron, and Hermione darting forward to help—Hermione sent a Leg-Locker at the Death Eater Fred still fought furiously, and he grinned at her. She wore the expression that all of Gryffindor House had come to associate with exam week; it struck terror into the hearts of first years.

"Hello, Minister!" Percy roared, sounding positively delighted. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"

Fred gave a peal of laughter and hit his Death Eater, who was teetering on the spot, trying to undo Hermione's jinx, with a Stunning Spell—followed closely by two more from Ron and Harry.

"You're joking, Perce!" he cried in amazement, and he saw Percy fire a jinx at Thicknesse, who collapsed and sprouted spikes all over his body, clawing at them painfully as he writhed on the floor. Fred roared with laughter. "You actually are joking, Perce…I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"

Four things happened at once; first, the entire world seemed to rip wide open into an inexpressible volume of sound; second, Fred heard Percy, Harry, Ron, and Hermione scream in anguish, and he felt a pain in his heart like he had never known because he could not help them; third, he could not tell if he was standing on his feet or if he was airborne, but the entire planet seemed to have been tipped upside down; and fourth, he was hit very hard, very suddenly by something that was stiflingly dark—it stopped all sensation, all sound, all sight at once.

At first, it was mildly painful—like the time that he and George had collided on their broomsticks…

But, he remembered, that hadn't been a bad day at all. That had been the day that Harry had caught the Snitch, the day that Gryffindor had won the House Cup, and they had all smashed together in midair—he, and George, and Oliver, and Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and Harry—spiraling slowly, joyously back to earth.

And then the pain was gone.


	29. Chapter 29

You guys are the best! I'm waiting to answer the MANY magically delicious reviews that you beautiful people have provided already (you really do make me so happy) because I've got a project to finish for one of my classes, and I was struck by inspiration for a Christmas piece last night! There are going to be two more chapters today, two tomorrow, one at midnight tomorrow, two on Saturday, and the epilogue on Sunday! YAY FOR MANIA!

* * *

Percy was blinded by tears, and pressure was building in his head as he looked down at the lifeless body of his first-ever baby brother—even before George. He was not aware of Harry, Ron, or Hermione, who all seemed to be talking at him. He whirled around, enraged, looking desperately for something to fight, something to destroy—something that would dissolve even a particle of the anger, pain, and hatred he felt for the loss of Fred.

On the other side of the corridor, one of the Death Eaters was stirring. It was not Pius Thicknesse, who seemed to have disappeared under the caved-in wall that had killed Fred—it was the other, the one who had fought his brother. He had been unmasked, and was staggering upright, clearly disorientated.

Percy let out the animal noise that had been tearing at the back of his throat since the moment he had seen Fred's frozen smile.

"_ROOKWOOD!"_

The scream shook Percy down to his core, and it seemed to scare Rookwood, who stopped only for a second to look back in fear before staggering forward, trying to run.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Percy roared, pursuing him down the corridor; somehow, Fred being killed and killing Rookwood would complete each other—it would stop the pain Percy felt, it would bring Fred back, it would avenge him. There was a small corner of Percy's brain screaming at him to stop, but the rest of him was thinking of the promise he had given George, the looks on his parents' faces when he told them what had happened, and the years of guilt and regret that were pushing him forward.

"_Crucio!"_ he screamed, and with a piglike squeal of pain, Rookwood dropped. They stood at the base of the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. "You're not getting away from me, Rookwood!" Percy howled, and the Death Eater clambered to his feet, scampering up the spiral staircase.

Percy followed him, wiping dirt and tears from his face. He felt disconnected from his body, transported by his rage, by this overwhelming anger that boiled over and consumed him, encased him like the pressure of Apparition—

Someone else was howling atop the tower. Percy burst through the door, onto the parapet, and encountered a full-scale battle. A very pretty girl—Cho Chang—was dueling the werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. She kept hitting him with jinxes, and was too quick and agile to be caught by his massive, swiping hands, armed with long, yellowed nails that looked more like claws.

"Help me, Greyback!" Rookwood screamed, as Percy advanced on him.

"We duel, Rookwood!" Percy bellowed, seizing his collar. "We duel like men—"

"I have no wand!" Rookwood shouted. He held up both empty hands. "Don't kill me!"

Percy ground to a halt. Even in this insane rage, this blind anger—he could not hurt an unarmed man. It was cruel.

"Help me!"

Percy looked around and saw that Cho had dropped her wand; it had rolled a few feet away from her, and she had been backed up against the stone parapet; the werewolf was advancing…he was too large to avoid…Percy raised his wand—

"_Crucio!"_

Pain exploded in every molecule of Percy's body and he collapsed onto the flagstones, writhing under Rookwood's curse; through barely-open eyes, he saw that Rookwood had lied—

And then, through the night, the second worst noise Percy had ever heard rang out. Cho was screaming, screaming as though her life were being ripped out of her with vicious, clawed hands—Percy had to help her—

"_RELASHIO!"_ he screamed, and Rookwood staggered backward and dropped his wand. Shaking, feeling like he was going to vomit, Percy fought his way to his feet and saw Greyback savaging Cho—he clung to her badly broken and bleeding leg as she clawed at the stone floor, trying to get away—

Percy fired the most powerful Blasting Curse he had ever felt, and Greyback howled in pain. He took a swipe at Percy, but did not let Cho drop; in fact, he ran for the door with her thrown over his shoulder, trying to get down to the castle again—

"Greyback!" Rookwood barked, but the werewolf would have none of it. He took another swipe, and this time, his aim was true—he caught Rookwood full in the stomach, and the Death Eater flew backwards ten feet, hit the side of the parapet, and toppled over.

With a furious scream, Percy ran forward—but Rookwood's body had disappeared in the darkness; it lay somewhere in the courtyard below, which was illuminated with jets of light and the sounds of more fighting—then, in the corner of his mind, he heard another of Cho's bone-chilling screams.

Greyback had dragged her inside, to finish his work—Percy could see a trail of her blood leading the way in—he raced back into the castle. If nothing else, Cho Chang would not die tonight because he could not help her.

* * *

"Come and get me, you ugly brute!" Cho screamed, firing a Blasting Curse at Fenrir Greyback over her shoulder; she was leading him to the Astronomy Tower. Every inch of her was saying that she should not do what she was about to, but the last moments that she had seen her parents were burning in the front of her mind, and she wanted nothing in the world more than to throw this monster off of the highest tower in the castle.

Greyback gave a howl just as Cho flung open the door and raced up the spiral steps to the parapet of the tower. She whirled around, her back to the wall, just in time to greet Greyback. His bloody face loomed out of the moonlight, his teeth dripping with saliva and blood; he stood slightly hunched over, making him look even more like an animal than he already was…

"Cornered, eh, pretty?" he asked, licking his lips. "All alone up here, eh? Betcha didn't think of this…betcha didn't think you'd get me, eh?" He seemed to relish toying with her, making her feel trapped.

"I've been hunting you for months," Cho spat, not lowering her wand.

"Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo," Greyback cackled. "Months, ya been hunting me? Why's that, pretty? Huh? Why's that?"

"You killed my parents," she hissed. "And now I'll kill you."

Greyback pulled his lips back over his teeth in some bizarre semblance of a grin; his chin dripped with blood. "Ah…you're the one I missed, eh? The one I was s'posed to get? Yer parents got on the wrong side of the law, eh?"

Cho swallowed. "My father was a Muggle-born," she retorted. "And you murdered him."

"We kill them nasty buggers," Greyback agreed. "They deserve it. I got in trouble for missing you, girly. Guess now I can finish the job."

Cho dove out of the way, and the werewolf collided headfirst with the stone parapet; at that precise moment, two more people came barreling out onto the tower, one of them screaming at the top of his voice—Cho could not pay them any attention.

She fired a jinx at Greyback, who took another lunge at her; Seeker that she was, she managed to dive out of the way just in time. Over and over, they played a game of cat and mouse, until—

Cho collided hard with Greyback's shoulder and dropped her wand. She staggered to her feet, pressed up against the parapet—but her wand was too far away, she could not reach it—she looked over to the other duelers—one of them was familiar—

"Help me!" she screamed, and he turned; it was one of the Weasleys—Percy, she thought, he would help her—but he had turned his back on the Death Eater he was fighting, and was suddenly hit from behind with a spell—he collapsed, writhing and screaming.

At precisely the same moment, Greyback bounded forward, and Cho kicked out—her right foot connected with his jaw, and she scrambled for her wand—her fingers closed on it—

And then, pain unimaginable tore through her entire body. She felt the bones in her leg snap as Greyback sank his teeth and claws deep into her knee. She screamed, screamed at the top of her voice—and in the midst of that screaming, she felt herself being lifted up, carried away by the monster who now had her blood running down his chin…

Cho reached up one hand and clawed viciously at Greyback's face as he ran, holding her in a vice-like grip. "I'll kill you!" she screamed, even over the roaring of her blood, rushing about in her head, and the overwhelming pain that radiated through her entire body from her mangled leg.

With a roar, Greyback threw her—Cho clung tightly to her wand as she hit a wall. She very nearly blacked out from the pain. She could not stand, she could not see—she could hear and smell the werewolf coming closer.

"Delicious little thing," he murmured, bending over her. He plucked her wand from her grasp and flicked it over his shoulder. "I don't think you'll be needing this…"

* * *

"We'll drop them over the staircases, onto the brutes!" Professor Trelawney said, as Lavender helped her heave huge bags overstuffed with crystal balls. "They think they can invade our school—they've got another thing coming! Miss Brown, help me!"

Lavender gave a slight grin, pushing her sweaty hair out of her eyes, and lifted the bag onto the banister; a floor below, she could see duels filling the entrance hall. She lifted a crystal ball from the bag, drawing her wand just like Professor Trelawney.

"Now, this part is very easy, my girl—just—" She made a sort of flourish with her wand, and the crystal ball sailed through the air and collided hard with a Death Eater on the steps below. "You try—"

Lavender heard the girl's screams first, and then she saw Greyback. It was true. He was a monster, even in human form, and he had Cho Chang—Cho, the girl who had shoved Lavender out of the way of a Killing Curse in Gryffindor Tower, not an hour since—trapped in a corner.

Lavender let out a yell, abandoning Professor Trelawney. Quite forgetting her wand, and feeling only the pain of the families who had suffered at his hands, she launched herself at Greyback's waist, bringing him down sideways. He gave a yelp of pain, and she scrambled to her feet.

"Miss Brown!" Professor Trelawney shrieked.

"Help Cho!" Lavender screamed, pointing. "Hey, Greyback—you stupid, ugly monster! Over here!"

With a real, wolf-like roar, Greyback bounded forward, and Lavender darted out of the way. He hit the wall of the corridor and crumpled; she leapt on top of him, squeezing his throat with one hand and holding her wand to his face with the other—

"You're finished," she growled through gritted teeth—and then, one massive hand closed around her wrist; he was stronger than she, and she had lost her chance to curse him—

He wrenched her up, and now he had her by the throat; his nails were digging into her flesh, and she struggled for air—he was walking forward, dangling her before him, until she felt the ground disappear beneath her—he was going to drop her directly down to the entrance hall, to her death—

And just as he began to loosen his grasp, Lavender kicked out—he roared in pain and dropped her, not down into the entrance hall, but onto the floor—she was still on the balcony. She landed on her hands and knees, coughing, sputtering, but she had barely a moment to breathe—Greyback rounded on her again, clutching his side in pain. He howled, and Lavender pulled herself up against the railing of the balcony, her wand out—and then he tackled her straight over the edge—Lavender heard Professor Trelawney's scream as the entire world fell away. Or, rather, Lavender was falling away from the world, with the werewolf on top of her, clawing at her face and neck.

Her whole body slammed as one against the stone floor below, and stars popped before her eyes—she was stunned, she could not move or breathe, and she felt Greyback's claws connect with her face. She felt her flesh tear and wanted to cry out—she barely had the strength to lift one arm—he clamped his jaws on her wrist and ripped viciously, tearing away her skin, breaking the bones—

"No," she murmured, but she had no strength…and suddenly, it was like watching the attack happen to someone else…she didn't even feel that much pain…was this death?

The weight disappeared from her chest, but Lavender's vision went dark, and she knew no more.

* * *

Draco held one hand over his bleeding mouth, trying to fight his way through the entrance hall, past the duels and flying curses—he wanted nothing more than to escape, to flee the castle and this waking nightmare he had encountered—

A body sailed over his head, and Draco ducked; Fenrir Greyback collided with the wall, thrown from the body of his latest prey, a girl who lay spread-eagled on the floor of the hall, bleeding from many wounds—it was Lavender Brown. He looked around, but could see no one who had cast the spell; all of those on the other side were fighting Death Eaters furiously, and not concerned with Greyback or his victim.

Then, with a sickening crack, Greyback, who had been fighting to get back on his feet, was struck by a heavy blow from above—Professor Trelawney was heaving crystal balls over the edge of the upper balcony, screaming—

"I have more! More for any who want them! Here—"

She sent another one straight into the air, and with a wave of her wand, it plummeted straight down towards Draco—he leapt out of the way with a terrified yell and ducked into a hiding space, an alcove which normally housed one of the animated statues—he squeezed his eyes shut. Why wasn't he gone, why didn't he just run for it? Crabbe had just been killed-he should never have stayed back into the castle, he should have gone with Slytherin House and found his mother—had she been murdered, by now? Had his father?

Pain and self-hatred welled up inside Draco, and he wanted to cry out, to sob—he pressed his palms against his eyes, willing himself not to cry. He had never, ever wanted any of this. He had never wanted Hogwarts destroyed. He had never wanted to see his classmates—his friends—die in front of him—but what could he do?

"Help," moaned a feeble voice, and Draco looked around; Lavender Brown, by some miracle, was alive, but only just. Draco, keeping low to the ground, crept over to her.

She didn't seem to know him, or else she was in too much pain to care that she detested him; she was bleeding very badly from her mangled arm and face. "Help me," she whispered. Automatically, Draco touched her hand—it was like ice.

"Good lad, Draco!" roared a voice from behind him, and he turned to see Antonin Dolohov, his face twisted in a grin. "Finish her off, she's good as dead!"

"Dolohov!"

Draco looked up and saw—he did a double take—Lupin, his professor, disheveled, bleeding from a cut on his face and panting heavily. He raised his wand and aimed it at Dolohov. "We're not finished!" he barked, and he shot a jet of white light, which Dolohov deflected—

But Draco had had enough; he wanted to see nothing more, and he abandoned Lavender Brown, running as fast as he could to somewhere far, far from the war, and the death, and the horror…

He had never wanted any of this.


	30. Chapter 30

Arthur fired off a curse at the masked Death Eater he fought, and the man crumpled, unconscious, on the staircase. He heard a yell of pain and saw Remus, across the hall, jinxing Dolohov spectacularly—he ran forward to help—

"Someone…please…"

He skidded to a halt and looked round. Among the rubble and the flying spells lay a badly injured girl—a Hogwarts student, no older than Ron or Ginny. She was barely conscious, but she was alive, and Arthur ran to her side, his heart burning in his throat.

He knelt beside her, trying to stay aware of the duels around him—her eyes fluttered open, and he saw that her injuries were not just from a duel. She had been savaged, just like Bill. It even looked like Greyback's handiwork. Her arm and part of her face were mangled and bleeding horribly.

Arthur put a gentle hand on her forehead. "I've got to move you out of the way, dear," he shouted, ducking a jet of orange light that just missed his shoulder. "It's going to hurt, but you'll be in worse trouble if you stay here!"

The girl gave half a nod and lifted up her uninjured arm to put around his neck; being as gentle as he could, given the circumstances, Arthur scooped her up and ran to the alcoves at the back of the hall—there he sat the girl against the wall. She was barely conscious.

"Thank you," she murmured, and Arthur nodded.

"We'll get you out of here as soon as—"

"ARRRGHHHH!"

Arthur looked over his shoulder—Remus had just been hit by a curse, and was huddled on the floor, twenty feet away as Dolohov advanced on him, descending the stairs.

"I'm fine," the girl murmured. "Go help…"

Arthur looked at her worriedly for a moment, his hand still resting on her head—

"_Avada—"_

"_SILENCIO!"_ Arthur roared, whirling around just in time to hit Dolohov and stop the Killing Curse from hitting Remus. He ran forward, ignoring Dolohov's mute struggle to end the Silencing Charm, and seized Remus's arms, dragging him up; he looked a little disorientated, but clapped Arthur on the shoulder.

"I'm all right," he promised. "I've got it, now—" He flourished his wand, blocking a flame of brightest violet from Dolohov.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_ Arthur cried, but Dolohov deflected the spell—and then Arthur was distracted by a flash of brightest red—Ginny, his Ginny—was flying through the double doors towards the marble staircase, firing spells over her shoulder at a masked Death Eater who was chasing her.

"Go after her!" Remus roared, firing off a curse at Dolohov; he was clutching his side with his left arm, but was still fighting furiously. "I can handle him!"

With a wrenching pang, Arthur bolted after his daughter. Her bright red hair was visible, even in the darkness, and he fired badly aimed Stunning Spells at her pursuer—he would not let Ginny be hurt—he could not let that happen—

"Ginny!" he roared, skidding to a halt in the middle of the hall, when he saw the Death Eater raise his wand.

Ginny whirled around, and, without enough time to block the curse, dropped to her knees—the green light missed her by inches, and with a yell of fury, Arthur fired off a spell that blasted the Death Eater directly, and he smacked into the wall behind him, before lying motionless on the ground.

Arthur ran forward to Ginny, who was white and shaking. She hugged him tightly, and he kissed the top of her head. "What are you doing out here?" he demanded angrily.

"Long story," she said, only half apologetically. "I—"

There was a peal of inhuman laughter, and they both looked up to the balcony overhead; Bellatrix Lestrange was dueling Tonks furiously. The witches, who had just backed into view, were circling each other, dodging each other's curses by inches as spells flew, taking chunks out of the banisters and walls.

"_TONKS!"_ Ginny screamed, and before Arthur could stop her, she had wrenched away and bounded up the stairs.

"Ginny! Ginny, no!"

"Arthur!"

* * *

Remus's back was to the wall—literally. He had dropped his wand—it lay some ten feet away, and Dolohov had him cornered. He couldn't make a dive for his weapon, and in the entrance hall filled with shouted spells and screams of pain and fury, he could find no way out.

"Got you now, half-breed," Dolohov growled. He shot sparks at Remus's feet, and he jumped. Dolohov laughed. "Go on. What are you going to do?"

"Arthur!"

Arthur, who was across the hall, turned, and Dolohov laughed again, watching as he ran over to help. He raised his wand, facing Remus again. "Calling for help, how brave—"

BAM.

In Dolohov's hesitation, Remus leapt for his wand and fired a Conjunctivitis Curse full in his face. Dolohov roared with pain and began firing off curses everywhere—Remus hadn't planned for this—Arthur went down, struck by a Cruciatus Curse, and Remus almost fell over him.

"Get out of here, I'm fine!" Arthur bellowed, already dragging himself to his feet. "I'll handle him!" Dolohov, his eyes streaming, rounded on Remus and Arthur, his face etched with hatred. "Go, Remus!" Arthur barked, giving him a shove.

"Remus!"

He looked up wildly, mingled horror and happiness at hearing Dora's voice again—but then he saw her—she was on the upper balcony dueling Bellatrix more fiercely than he had seen anyone fight.

"DORA!" he roared, and Bellatrix, even in the throes of battle, cackled with insane laughter.

"DORA!" she screeched, mimicking him. She blocked a particularly vicious Blasting Curse. "_Sectumsempra!"_

Dora crumpled out of sight behind the banisters, and Remus screamed—he bounded for the stairs—she couldn't be dead, she couldn't be—just this afternoon—just this morning—they were with Teddy, Teddy, his baby, his son—she wasn't dead, it defied logic—

And then as he ran, Remus saw her hand—her wedding ring—soaked in blood, clinging to the banister—his heart gave a joyous leap, and he screamed her name again—she saw him, she smiled tremulously, and he didn't hear Arthur's shout of warning—

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

He fell forward—or at least, that was how it felt—and, strangely, as every sensation ebbed slowly away, he saw an echo, an image in his mind's eye…

Dora gazed heavenward, her chin tilted up as she gazed into a star-strewn sky, her eyes reflecting the light of the full moon.

* * *

"Remus!" Tonks screamed, and her tears of pain and anger spilled over. Her husband lay motionless on the marble staircase, felled by Dolohov's curse—Dolohov, who was now dueling Arthur—and she was left clinging to the banister, clutching a badly bleeding wound deep in her side. "Remus, no! _REMUS!"_

"You die next," hissed a voice behind her. Bellatrix had still not given up, and stood over her, snarling, furious—she raised her wand level with Tonks's face—Tonks closed her eyes, tears running down her cheeks— "_Avada—_"

There was a thud, and Bellatrix gave a cry of shock and pain—Tonks looked and saw that Ginny had just slammed her bodily off her feet. Then she dropped to her knees before Tonks.

"Are you all right?" she asked hurriedly, her eyes sparkling with tears. "Tonks, please, are you okay?"

Tonks nodded and tried to stop her tears, for Ginny's sake, though she was having trouble breathing. A sudden movement caught her eye. "Ginny," she groaned, pointing. Bellatrix had gotten to her feet again.

"You nasty little blood traitor!" she screamed, and Ginny spun, still crouched protectively before Tonks. "You get to watch your little friend die, now!"

"I wouldn't be so sure, Auntie," Tonks spat, trying to pull herself up; she could no longer feel her legs, and it was getting horribly cold…she knew what was coming…

Bellatrix's face contorted with rage. "You are no spawn of my family!" she screamed, slashing her wand down—Tonks braced herself, but Ginny deflected the curse. She leapt to her feet, and the ferocity and speed of her spells were enough to throw Bellatrix, to force her to back away—for a moment. She finally landed a jinx that sent Ginny flying against the banister where Tonks lay.

"Ginny," she murmured, reaching for her shoulder. She would never be able to forgive herself if Molly's daughter died… "Ginny…"

But Ginny was already getting to her feet again. Her mouth was bleeding, her hair disheveled and singed, but she spat out a mouthful of blood and faced Bellatrix again, standing between her and Tonks.

And Tonks herself was trying find the strength to lift her wand…to get back on her feet…but the pain was too much, and she was so cold…and so tired…and Remus was gone…and she had only just kissed Teddy goodnight…

* * *

Ginny spat a mouthful of her own blood on the ground; it spattered over the broken pieces of wall that littered the balcony on which she faced Bellatrix Lestrange. Months of fury and resentment, years of this woman's untold cruelty, and here Ginny stood, about to duel her. And she did not feel small, or insignificant. She felt powerful. She would make this woman pay…for hurting Tonks, for ruining Neville's life, for murdering Sirius.

"You just don't give up," laughed Bellatrix, looking as though she had been given a very pleasant surprise. "I know you, don't I?"

"I certainly hope not," Ginny retorted, still not lowering her wand; she heard Tonks give a groan over her shoulder. _Please let her be okay_…

"Yes, I do," Bellatrix said, and the look of joy that filled her face was sickening. "You're Potter's little girlfriend…you're his little blood traitor girlfriend, aren't you?"

Ginny said nothing, but clenched her jaw.

"You are," she continued. "Oh, goodness…I wonder what he'd do to get you back…even if it was just pieces—"

But Ginny had no more time; she had to save Tonks. "_STUPEFY!"_

Bellatrix dove out of the way and fired a jet of silver light directly at Ginny. She ducked, landing hard beside Tonks, who was still faintly stirring. Hope leapt up in Ginny's heart; she could do this. She could win. With a yell, she rolled onto her feet, backing away from the edge of the balcony, away from Tonks, and fired a Body-Bind Curse at Bellatrix, who deflected it back at Ginny. She blocked it just in time, and Bellatrix looked enraged.

"You can't dodge me forever!" she shrieked. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Ginny flattened herself on the floor, and heard Bellatrix's frustrated scream. She scrambled back to her feet, but before she could even think of a spell, Bellatrix had seized the front of her jumper. She slammed Ginny's shoulder blades, hard, into the banister, and Ginny dropped her wand; her head dangled out in open space, and she could not breathe as Bellatrix squeezed her throat tighter.

"BELLATRIX!"

The pressure was gone from Ginny's throat, and, stars popping in front of her eyes, she dropped to all fours, gasping and coughing. She snatched up her wand and reached out, trying to find Tonks—she caught an ice-cold hand. Tonks was not moving. _No, no….please don't be dead…_

"Leave her!" a voice snarled, and Ginny looked up; Lucius Malfoy was clutching Bellatrix's wand arm. "He needs Severus—we must find him, do you understand me?"

Bellatrix looked mutinous and threw a look of abject hatred down upon Ginny, who was clutching Tonks's bloodstained hand. "Fine," she barked at Lucius. "But—a parting gift—"

Ginny knew what was going to happen a split second before it did. Bellatrix raised her wand, and Ginny threw herself over Tonks, covering her head. With an earsplitting crash, the balcony exploded into rubble and fell thirty feet, into the entrance hall below. Ginny felt rocks scrape her arms and legs and hit her head, but she clung tightly to Tonks and her wand, bracing herself for the impact—

She was slammed hard against the floor, and fought to remain conscious as she was showered with rock; her entire body throbbed with pain and her vision went temporarily dark as she gasped for air. She could feel bruises and cuts everywhere. She forced herself to get up, though her head was spinning. Her only thought was to get to Tonks, who lay unmoving, half-buried under rubble, ten feet away.

"Tonks," she panted, dropping to her knees beside her. She was deathly pale, and Ginny seized her hand. "Tonks, please…" Tears burned her eyes. "Tonks…"

And, to Ginny's shock, Tonks gave a slight cough, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Ginny?"

"Yeah, it's me," Ginny said, feeling her tears spill over. "It's okay, Tonks, you're going to be okay…no, no, stay awake, Tonks, please…"

"Remus," Tonks murmured, trying to move her head and look around.

Ginny bit her lip hard, stifling a sob. "He—he's—" She wanted so badly to lie, but Tonks seemed to see the answer in her face. She let her head drop back and two tears slipped into her hairline. "Tonks—you'll be okay—I'm going to take you to Madam Pomfrey—"

"_CRUCIO!"_

"_PROTEGO!"_

With another crash echoing from one of the many duels still raging in the entrance hall, a marble banister exploded, and Ginny ducked. When it was safe, she lifted her head again. Tonks's breathing was shallow and quick, painful to hear.

Ginny grabbed her hand. "No, Tonks, come on—you can—"

Tonks squeezed her fingers, very faintly. "Kiss…Teddy…for…me…"

Ginny burst into tears, sobbing and screaming, while the fighting raged on around her. "No, Tonks, no, please," she cried, shaking her shoulders. "Please, Tonks! Wake up, you'll be fine!" A pair of hands descended on her shoulders.

"Ginny! Come on, you've got to get away from here!" Bill had come—when had Bill come? He had been outside, far away…and now he was trying to pull Ginny off of Tonks's body. "You can't stay here, Ginny, you can't help her!"

"Tonks!" Ginny screamed, sobbing, as Bill and Fleur pulled her out of the lines of fire of the duelers on the staircases. _"Tonks!"_

* * *

"Ginny, eet eez all right," Fleur said gently, taking hold of her upper arms. Ginny was on her knees in a pile of rubble, trying in vain to shift the fallen rock and save Tonks… Fleur pulled harder, desperate to get her away from the duels that raged in the hall. "Come, come wiz me. Bill—please—"

"_Tonks!"_ Ginny screamed desperately, but, with Bill's help, Fleur pulled her into the safety of an alcove.

"We cannot 'elp," Fleur said, feeling tears sting her eyes even as she held Ginny's arms, restraining her from running into the fighting again. "Ginny, listen to me—"

"No, I won't! _Tonks!"_

A curse flew and hit the wall just over Fleur's head, and she saw that Severus Snape, the traitor, the murderer, was sprinting from the hall on the heels of a man with long blonde hair. She looked at Bill, who already had drawn his wand.

"Look after her, I'll go!" he barked. He looked pale and shaken beneath the scars that covered his face.

"Bill," Fleur said, and for a moment, she forgot Ginny, who was crying, still struggling to get away from her. Bill met her eyes, and she saw the promise he always gave her—_see you soon_—she nodded. "Be careful!"

He gave a flicker of a hollow smile and took off, running for the double doors of the castle, and Fleur turned to Ginny. She was still crying and fighting harder than ever to get away.

"Let me go!" she shouted. "Let me go, right now! I'm going to fight—I want to—"

"No," Fleur said firmly, blinking back tears. "We must stay togezzer—you should not 'ave left—"

"I had to!" Ginny answered angrily. "I had to—I couldn't let you all—" Her eyes flickered over to where Tonks still lay. Fleur was inspecting the many scrapes and cuts that covered Ginny's face and neck. "Just leave me alone, would you?" Ginny burst out furiously. "Let me go, leave me alone!"

Fleur's heart broke. Ginny was, in a way, her sister—her sister who saw more of a family in Tonks than in Fleur herself. She became angry. "We weel move 'er, when eet eez safe," she said, rather harshly. "But I am more worried about you—"

"Well, you needn't be," Ginny retorted.

"Ginny, I—"

With an echoing bang, yet another chunk of the banisters exploded, and Fleur shoved Ginny against the wall, shielding her from the flying marble. Ginny pushed against her, trying to get free, still crying with fury, but Fleur did not budge. When it was safe, she seized Ginny's wrists; she continued to struggle pointlessly.

"_Let me go!"_ she shouted.

"_Non!"_ Fleur snapped, giving her a shake. "I weel protect you, Ginny, eef I die doing eet!"

And Ginny stilled at last. She stared at Fleur, her face glazed with tears. There was definite shock in that expression.

"Now, we must go somewhere safe!" Fleur insisted. "Come wiz me—" She pulled Ginny by the hand, but stopped when Ginny didn't move.

"We can't leave Tonks." And, in stark contrast to just moments before, for one of the first times in Fleur's memory, Ginny was just a little girl—exactly like Gabrielle. She looked at Fleur beseechingly. "Please, we can't—we can't just leave her."

And her tears spilled over again. Fleur seized her in a tight hug. "All right, all right," she murmured in Ginny's ear. "We weel…we weel take 'er body somewhere safe."

"Thank you, Fleur," Ginny whispered back.

* * *

Bill ran out of the entrance hall into the open air, beyond the castle walls, and devastation sprawled before him. Bodies of the dead and injured littered the lawn, sloping downward in the direction of the Forbidden Forest and the Whomping Willow. His eyes raked the scene—no more than fifteen feet away, Snape was disappearing into the night, his black robes billowing behind him. Directly on his heels was Lucius Malfoy. Bill raised his wand…he had just one shot, one chance to get revenge on Snape for Dumbledore, for his betrayal, for everything…

"_Crucio!"_

Bill collapsed, writhing in pain, under Malfoy's curse; Lucius had seen Bill, had retaliated, and Bill had lost his chance at Snape. Cursing fluently, he leapt to his feet, brandishing his wand.

"_No, keep going! The Dark Lord requires you!"_ Malfoy roared at Snape, who had hesitated, only for a moment. He looked at Bill for half a second before disappearing into the night.

"We've got him!" screamed a voice; Bill looked around to see two girls, one blond and the other with very long brown hair that streamed behind her as they both ran into the darkness after Snape. Malfoy saw them; he raised his wand—

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _Bill shouted.

Malfoy blocked the jinx and flourished his wand; a blast of fire shot directly at Bill, who had only a nanosecond to react—this was a very old kind of duel, one that Bill didn't know as well as he should. He swore again and swung his wand over his head—the fire collected into a sphere of light so bright it crackled with white-hot magic, and Bill let it fly straight at Malfoy.

He yelled and dove out of the way; the streak of light set fire to the end of his cloak, and he struggled to stamp it out—

And in his anger, he fired off a Killing Curse—Bill leapt out of the way, just in time to avoid the jet of green light, but he began to tumble, unable to stop himself down a steep, rocky path to the cliff overlooking the lake, scraping and bruising himself all the way down—he reached out and caught something—

"No!" Bill shouted, as the rock he had just seized by his fingertips gave way, and he plummeted, thirty feet, towards the lake below.

* * *

Alicia tore across the dark lawn, her feet slipping a little in the wet grass—wet with what, precisely, she didn't like to think. Hannah ran beside her, firing Stunning Spells at the man they both chased—Snape was only thirty feet ahead of them, running straight for the edge of the forest, beyond the Whomping Willow.

"_Impedimenta!"_ she shouted, but the jinx went too wide and Snape continued to run—"Hannah!"

For Hannah had just tripped over something in the darkness and fallen, hard, rolling head over heels. Alicia skidded to a halt and stooped to help her—

"What are you doing? Get after him!" Hannah insisted. "Keep going, I'm fine!" She was white as chalk and clutching her ankle in pain.

"I can't leave you out here!" Alicia insisted.

"It's just a sprain," Hannah said, though she winced badly when she tried to move her foot. "I'll be fine, Alicia, just go after Snape!"

Alicia hesitated for a moment—Snape was now fifty yards away, and about to disappear into the blackness of the Forbidden Forest. "If I can't catch him, I'm coming right back here—don't—just—"

"I'll be okay," Hannah promised. "Go!" She looked so fierce that Alicia did not argue again; she took off running after Snape.

She couldn't remember the last time that she had run so quickly; the ground flew beneath her, and she was closing the gap—fifteen feet—ten—

"_Stupefy!"_ she shouted, and Snape barely ducked in time. _"Stupefy! Stupefy!"_

In one motion, Snape whirled on the spot and shot a curse at Alicia that flipped her backwards off of her feet, knocking the wind out of her. Snape turned to run again, but Alicia sat up, gasping, _"Impedimenta!"_

With a yell of pain, Snape hit the ground—but he rolled into the thick undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest. Alicia staggered to her feet and hurried after him—she entered the dark, quiet stillness of the forest, and for a moment, it was as though all sounds—all the horrors of the battle raging behind her, on the lawn and in the castle—were muted at once.

Alicia had never set foot in the forest. She flicked her wand, illuminating the tip, and cast the beam of light over the ground, trying to find where Snape had landed. She moved slowly, carefully, listening for any noise…

There was a snap of a twig, and Alicia spun—a bright flash of red light blinded her, and everything went dark.


	31. Chapter 31

Hannah gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand up; her injured left leg shook underneath her, but she managed to limp forward a few paces, clutching her wand. She looked around. Duels raged everywhere, gigantic spiders ran amok, and dementors were swooping out of the darkness all around the fighting.

The earth shook beneath her, and Hannah looked up just in time to see two giants wrestling furiously, roaring loudly enough to make the air vibrate with the noise. One of the gigantic feet landed just yards away from where Hannah stood, and she was thrown off of her feet again. The giants continued to fight viciously, but they staggered away from where Hannah lay.

Her ankle hurting worse than ever, Hannah got up again, just in time to see a Death Eater with a pale, twisted face disfigured by what looked like a Conjunctivitis fire a jet of brightest blue light at Ellie Branstone, who had to have snuck back into the castle after the fighting started, for she was certainly not overage. The spell struck her in the stomach; she collapsed and did not move again.

"Hey!" screamed Hannah, and the Death Eater turned. She fired off a vicious Blasting Curse, which he deflected back at her—she tried again, and suddenly, they were dueling. Hannah deflected curse after curse, unable to get any of her own in—unable to jump out of the way if he tried to use a Killing Curse.

"Not bad," the Death Eater spat, taunting her, and Hannah suddenly recognized his face from the wanted posters—the face, which was now disfigured, was suddenly clear—Antonin Dolohov, the Death Eater responsible for her mother's murder.

"You," Hannah murmured, her eyes widening. She limped forward one step. _"YOU!"_ she screamed.

Dolohov did not know her, he did not care, but Hannah gave a scream of fury and let fly jinx after jinx, stumbling forward on her injured ankle, determined to make this man pay for what he put her through—what he had done to her family—

"_Crucio!"_

Hannah flew back ten feet and landed hard, knocking the wind out of her lungs as every inch of her body simultaneously burned white-hot. She writhed and screamed; her wand fell from her hand as Dolohov approached her, holding his wand aimed steadily at her heart.

Hannah kicked out with her good leg, and he dropped, clutching his kneecap. The Cruciatus Curse lifted, and she could draw breath again—but only for a moment. Shakily, she forced herself onto her hands and knees, feeling frantically on the dark lawn for her wand—her fingers closed around it and she turned just in time to see that Dolohov had recovered—he held his wand aimed at her face.

"You killed my mother," Hannah whispered, her eyes narrowed. She would not show fear to this man.

He gave a dark chuckle. "Really? Are you sure about that, pretty thing?" Hannah gritted her teeth, and he gave another cruel laugh.

"You killed my mother," she said again, louder and more angrily. She forced herself to stand, though she could feel her injured ankle shaking beneath her. Dolohov continued to laugh.

"_I'll kill you!"_ Hannah screamed, and at last, the laughter died from his face.

"All right, then," he grunted. "Have it your way—_Somata Perdo!"_ A jet of bright violet flames came straight at her—

"_Hannah!"_

A hand closed on her wrist and jerked her downward, wrenching her to the ground. By the time she was able to orientate herself again, Hannah saw Professor Sprout dueling fiercely with Dolohov.

"No! Professor Sprout!" Hannah cried. She tried again to get to her feet—but the pain was too much, her leg wouldn't support her any longer. "Professor!"

Professor Sprout's face was contorted with anger. She doled out curses as often as she deflected them, and Dolohov looked genuinely scared—it was all he could do to keep up with her—and for a moment, Hannah thought she might win.

And then, a horrible, unnatural chill stole over her…it seeped into her bones, freezing her from the inside out. She turned around. A cloud of ten or eleven dementors was bearing down on her…she could hear their rattling breath…almost feel their cold, clammy hands reaching for her…thoughts of her mother, of all the pain she had endured in the last two years because of that loss swirled in her mind, clouding her thoughts….

And then she heard Harry's voice, directing her, directing the D.A., teaching them how to conjure a Patronus Charm. She had been partnered with Neville, that day…he had made a flicker of a toad, but all she had managed was a cloud of white vapor…

Neville had encouraged her…

"_Expecto Patronum!"_ she screamed, and a huge silver barn owl erupted from the end of her wand, soaring directly at the faceless hood of the dementor nearest her—it swooped out, clipping the creatures with its huge wings, and Hannah watched in amazement—but then the barn owl flickered once—twice—and disappeared. The cold filled her once again, and Hannah tried the Patronus Charm again—it would not work. She tried to remember everything that made her happy—the dementors were closing in again—Ernie, Susan, Hogwarts, her family—_what had worked the last time?_

The dementors were coming closer, and Hannah could not move—she was paralyzed, not only by her ankle, but also by the crushing weight of sadness that was threatening to overtake her once again…

And then, a second Patronus, an enormous bear, galloped towards the dementors, and, snarling, rising up on its back paws, beat them back viciously, as though its claws were as real as anything. Hannah turned to see Professor Sprout—she had stopped her duel long enough to cast the charm, and it was requiring all of her concentration—she did not see what Hannah saw, what Hannah tried to stop—

"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_ she screamed, but the jinx missed, and Dolohov shouted, _"Somata Perdo!"_

The jet of bright purple fire hit Professor Sprout while her back was turned—she did not see it coming. She gave a cry of terrible pain and collapsed.

"No!" Hannah screamed. "NO! PROFESSOR!"

* * *

Ernie, even in the midst of a duel, saw what was happening before he heard it; before he heard Professor Sprout's yell of anguish, before he heard Hannah's screams—she was immobilized on the ground—undoubtedly injured, and a Death Eater had just wounded (he tried not to think, _killed_) Professor Sprout, and in an instant, he disappeared into the darkness. Abandoning his duel, ducking and weaving through the battlefield that was dominated by the fighting giants who roared and wrestled high above, Ernie ran to Hannah's side, skidding to a halt on his knees.

"Are you all right?" he demanded, seizing her shoulders. "Hannah, are you all right?"

"Professor!" she screamed, trying to get up. She was crying, her face red, and she didn't seem to notice Ernie at all. "Professor!"

"Hannah, we've got to get out of here!" Ernie shouted. "Listen to me—"

"No, I won't—Professor!" Hannah staggered to her feet and limped forward before slipping and falling, hard.

"Hannah, you're hurt!" Ernie told her, feeling tears sting his own eyes; he could see Professor Sprout, lying so frighteningly still—he was torn—but Hannah needed him more right now—

"We've got her, Ernie!" shouted a familiar voice, and two people darted past—Susan, her long braid flying behind her, and Colin Creevey. "Help Hannah!" Susan told him as they ran to Professor Sprout.

"Hannah, can you stand?" Ernie asked, slipping his wand in his pocket to help her.

"My fault," she moaned, as he seized one of her arms and pulled it around his neck. "It's all my fault…I should've been able to do it…Professor Sprout…"

"She's going to be fine, and so are you," Ernie said fiercely, his voice full of a lot of bravery that he was not entirely sure was really there. He pushed the doubt away and swallowed hard. "Come on, we're getting you to safety."

Suddenly, Susan's voice shouted, "Ernie, look out!"

The Impediment Jinx hit Ernie hard, and he dropped, landing on Hannah's injured leg—she screamed in pain, and Ernie struggled to get up again. He wrenched his wand out of his pocket and faced a Death Eater—the one whom he had abandoned to help Hannah.

"What do you think _you're_ doing?" he asked, flicking his wand lazily; Ernie deflected the Stunning Spell. "I don't believe we've finished, you and I. _Crucio!"_

"_No!"_ screamed a voice—Ernie would never be sure if it was Susan or Hannah who cried out. He missed his chance to block the spell and collapsed again, screaming in agony as the Death Eater grinned, showing crooked teeth, his face alight with pleasure.

"Hey! Leave him alone!"

With a sickening crunch, the Death Eater was thrown off-balance by a body colliding with his side; Colin Creevey had just lunged forward and thrown himself bodily at the man's knees. Ernie staggered to his feet again, shaking and sweating, but bracing himself to fight again.

Colin and the Death Eater were still wrestling on the ground. Colin had lost his wand—it lay a few feet away, and he was clearly trying to break the Death Eater's grip on his own wand—Ernie dodged around them, trying to get a clear shot—and then, because his wand arm was flailing wildly, the Death Eater fired off a jet of orange light that hit Ernie directly in the chest.

He felt burning, searing pain as the world turned upside down around him and he fell on his back, looking up at the stars—he saw Hannah lying unconscious, right beside him—he saw Susan leaving Professor Sprout's side, screaming as she ran towards him—and he saw Colin let out a terrible yell of fury and redouble his efforts against the Death Eater—

And then his mind went dark.

* * *

"Ernie!" Susan screamed, her voice tearing painfully from her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. She knelt beside Ernie, frightened to touch him—to find that his heart had stopped, that he had gone cold—she looked around. Colin Creevey was still furiously wrestling with the Death Eater who had cursed Ernie, Hannah was unconscious, and Professor Sprout was thirty feet away, unmoving—

The nearest duelers were too far away to help—

"_Stupefy!"_ Colin roared, trying to force the Death Eater's wand to point at its owner—the jet of red light narrowly missed Colin's head. Susan jumped to her feet to help—

"No, Susan, I've got it!" he shouted at her. "Help Ernie and the others!"

But Susan ran forward anyway, unwilling to leave him to be injured, and then the earth bucked up beneath her. The air turned momentarily white hot. The Death Eater had fired off an explosion that blasted both Colin and Susan away from him—by the time Susan could see again, enough to get onto her hands and knees, the Death Eater was running off into the darkness.

Her head ringing and her overheated face smarting in the cold night air, Susan got up. She looked around—Ernie and Hannah lay a few feet away—Professor Sprout further still—

"_Colin,"_ Susan gasped. The younger boy was spread-eagled on the lawn, twenty feet away. His eyes were wide open, and he looked utterly shocked. Susan felt tears burn in her eyes. He had caught the full power of the Death Eater's spell, had died trying to save her—trying to save Ernie. She dropped to her knees beside his body. "Colin, _no!"_

A soft groan sounded behind her—Ernie was stirring. Susan's heart leapt, and, tears pouring down her face, she ran to him. "Ernie," she begged. "Ernie, please—are you all right? Say something, please—"

"Soosn," he murmured, without opening his eyes, and Susan seized his hand.

She swallowed hard and promised, "You—you're going to be all right—"

There was a thundering of hooves, and she looked up. Firenze, the Divination teacher, was galloping towards her. He looked furious. "This is a dangerous spot for you, young one!" he shouted. "Get to safety!"

"I can't!" Susan cried. She gestured around her, at her fallen friends, at Professor Sprout. "Please, sir—help me—I can't leave them—"

"This one is beyond our help," Firenze said, his voice impassive but solemn as he looked down on Colin. He cantered over to Professor Sprout. "She—and the other two—they live. They will survive—but you cannot stay here with them, unprotected—ARRGHH!"

And Firenze fell forward; he had had his back turned on the rest of the fight, and a Severing Charm, or something like it, seemed to come from nowhere, in the middle of the fighting. His blood spattered across the ground as he gave a scream of pain and collapsed.

"No!" Susan shouted, drawing her wand again. She knelt by the centaur; his left flank was gushing blood, and he was shaking, like a frightened animal—he didn't seem to be able to stand.

"Leave me," he said fiercely—he sounded much stronger than he looked. "I can still use my bow from here—come back for us." His fathomless, dark eyes met Susan's—and amidst everything that had just happened—Professor Sprout, Hannah, Ernie, Colin—she felt a wave of reassurance.

"Go!" Firenze ordered. "You must help!"

Susan did as she was told and ran toward the main avenue of the lawn, where the most fighting was raging on. For the first time—although, she hoped that it was just her experience of the last few minutes, tainting her perception—Susan felt a nauseous wave of fear; the fighters defending the castle were outnumbered easily two to one, possibly more. Were they losing Hogwarts?

It appeared so.


	32. Chapter 32

Alicia Spinnet's Impediment Jinx sent Severus tumbling head over heels into the thick undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest. She was closing the distance between them; he rolled to his feet and hid himself in the darkness of the trees; it would be unsafe to run until his pursuer was incapacitated. He heard a sudden crashing, and knew that the girl had entered the forest. She was obviously looking for him, aware that she had made too much noise upon entering, and was now treading very softly.

He chanced a glimpse around his tree, and saw that she was turned the wrong way, looking for him on the ground; he knew that allowing her to chase him into the forest would lead only to her peril, and according to Lucius, he did not have much time left to dispose of her. Swallowing hard, Severus made his move. He stepped out from behind the tree.

Spinnet whirled around, raising her wand, but he was too quick—a silent Stunning Spell, and it was over. She lay unconscious on the ground.

Severus knelt beside her, checking her pulse; she was perfectly fine, and would wake within a few minutes. Still…he did not like the idea of anyone—particularly Greyback, should he come around—stumbling across her when she could not protect herself. With a flick of his wand, Severus levitated Alicia into a tiny clearing of trees, so densely grown together that she would be unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't looking properly. Satisfied, Severus hurried on through the forest, ducking branches and weaving around shrubs.

He was, essentially, following the path of the Whomping Willow passage—straight through the forest and into Hogsmeade. He crested the hill in record time, his heart hammering painfully—partly from exertion, but partly from what he knew was coming, what he knew would happen…

Suddenly, he remembered a particularly strange thought that had occurred to him, nearly a year ago, when he had been forcibly hidden in the Malfoys' attic. He had started the war—he had seen the final battle begun. Potter had returned, having hacked away sufficiently at the bits and pieces of material that roped him to life—and he, Severus, had done the same. Only—he had reached the end of his chain just a bit sooner than Potter. He had severed the last link by sparking the conflict in the castle.

He stopped at the top of the hill, where he could see all of Hogsmeade, lit up and active. He wondered for a moment if the villagers were going to try and help, to break through what remained of the barriers on the castle and join in the war. Or, perhaps, they were still evacuating students…he pushed that thought from his mind. It would do no good for Voldemort to see it there.

But Severus had failed in one task, which was why he hoped—hoped against hope, really—that he was wrong about what was about to happen to him—about why the Dark Lord had demanded to see him. He had not gotten the final message to Potter—and now, there was every chance that his cover had been blown away. Voldemort could certainly have found out that Severus was not on his side—if even one Death Eater reported that he had been Stunning, instead of aiming to kill…jinxing, instead of slaughtering…

Severus leaned against a tree. Where would Potter be, right now? Could he still have enough time to try and find him? But no—the castle was crumbling, Potter would be impossible to locate, and even if Severus could see him, how would he convince the idiotic, arrogant boy to listen? Furthermore, how would he justify allowing Potter to escape, in the heat of battle?

No, Severus knew what his best choice was—but that did not solve the problem of delivering Potter's final link to life—the final cut he must make.

It had been too long—too long since the Dark Lord had sent Lucius after him. Severus could feel it, as though he, just like Potter, was connected to Voldemort's mind. He drew a breath. The Shrieking Shack was close—very close.

And as Severus walked, memories, thoughts that hadn't visited him in years, began to wash over him…he and Lily daring each other to get closest to the haunted building—sneaking out of the castle at night to hear the noises made by the ghosts within…anger bubbled up, and he remember Sirius Black and James Potter, trying to kill him and then failing because they were too scared of the consequences…sometimes, he wondered what it would have been like, had they succeeded…

Perhaps it was best that Severus was reliving these things now. He had had to make the decision long ago of what precisely he would have to tell Potter to win his trust—particularly if he died before he could properly explain. He knew that he would have to give up everything—Lily, Dumbledore, the prophecy—everything. Potter knew that he was a good Occlumens, after all, and had at least enough sense to doubt a memory that could have been modified. Severus knew that he would have to tell the truth.

He had reached the door of the Shrieking Shack; he slipped inside, his eyes flickering over the ruined furniture. He walked across the deserted entryway, following the faintly glowing bluish-silver light that emanated from a back parlor. He passed the staircase, sparing a glance for the upper room where Potter had once attacked him, where Pettigrew had come back from the dead.

Severus bit back a surge of anger at the thought of Pettigrew—he could be dead a thousand years, and Severus would hate him still—but forced his mind to go blank. He felt his pulse quicken, heard his blood pound in his ears, but that was nothing. It was more important that he be ready to face Legilimency, as he always was.

"Enter, Severus."

He pushed the creaking door wide and entered the room where the secret passage was hidden. The damaged furniture was worst in here; possibly because this was the room where Lupin had spent most of the nights he transformed.

Voldemort sat behind a table, and behind his left shoulder was Nagini, the snake, coiling and uncoiling in a silvery cage that kept her suspended in midair. Severus felt a sudden desire to kill the beast—to make Potter's task easier—but he mustn't.

Voldemort's red eyes were focused on Dumbledore's wand—the Elder Wand, Severus had come to realize. He twirled the long wand between his pale white fingers. Severus blinked.

"The battle goes well, I gather," said Voldemort coolly.

"Well enough, my Lord," Severus answered. "They are losing fighters at every turn—and there were only a hundred or so to begin with. The giants have proved invaluable, and the acromantulae—though they have no cause, really—have joined the fighting."

"Good," Voldemort murmured, still not looking up from his wand. "Very good."

"My Lord," Severus said. "If that is all—"

"That is not all, Severus," he interrupted, looking up at last. He laid the wand flat on the table, covering it with his long, thin fingers.

The silence stretched on for a moment. Was a status report all that the Dark Lord had wanted? Severus took a step backward—and heard the oddest noise, emanating from the exit point of the secret tunnel. His heart clenched, and he stole a glance down round his knee—a crate blocked the tunnel. Voldemort did not seem to have heard anything, but Severus was sure he knew what it meant—sure that Potter, via the infernal connection of their minds, had found Voldemort's hiding place, and was eavesdropping. The snake hissed angrily, and the Dark Lord answered her softly, soothingly, in Parseltongue.

"My Lord, their resistance is crumbling," Severus insisted—if he could get out now, Potter would, perhaps, follow him rather than try to go after the snake—if that was, in fact, his plan, as Dumbledore had believed.

"—and it is doing so without your help," Voldemort answered coldly. "Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there…almost."

Severus felt a chill creep over his neck. "Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please." He heard a shifting movement in the tunnel, and quickly strode forward, closer to the table, to cover the noise.

At that precise moment, Voldemort stood, facing Severus with those merciless red eyes. "I have…a problem, Severus," he said.

Severus frowned. "My Lord?"

He held Dumbledore's wand aloft, studying it in the dim light of the room. "Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"

Severus stared at him. "My—my Lord? I do not understand. You—you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No," Voldemort said lightly. "I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand…no." Severus was having a very difficult time following this conversation—he had, honestly, not expected to walk out of the Shrieking Shack simply because Voldemort would have found out his endeavors to help Potter—but as Severus had had no such opportunity yet…here the Dark Lord stood, talking about wands…asking for advice…

"It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago…no difference." Severus opened his mouth, ready to speak, but closed it again, unsure of what to say. Voldemort began to pace in a slow, deliberate circle around the room; the snake hissed, suspended stationary in midair. "I have thought long and hard, Severus….Do you know why I have called you back from the battle?"

Severus couldn't remove his eyes from the snake, which fluttered its tongue at him. "No, my Lord," he answered. "But—I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."

Voldemort gave a derisive laugh. "You sound like Lucius," he said. "Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding."

Severus shifted his weight nervously, moving to block the tunnel ever so slightly.

"Potter will come to me," Voldemort continued. "I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will wand to stop it at any cost. He will come."

Severus couldn't help agreeing, in the back of his mind, that Voldemort was right. "But my Lord," he reasoned, "he might be killed accidentally by one other than yourself—"

"My instructions to my Death Eaters have been perfectly clear," Voldemort snapped, and for the first time, Severus heard the real fury that lay beneath his genteel tones—the fury that meant precisely what Snape had feared all along—that he would die before he spoke to Potter again. Voldemort was still talking. "Capture Potter. Kill his friends—the more, the better—but do not kill him."

He seemed to draw a breath, a soothing moment of relief; the slit nostrils flared slightly, and the red eyes opened to gaze at Severus.

"But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been valuable to me. Very valuable."

"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him," Severus replied. This was going to sound foolish and desperate—but if he was close to being given away, he had no choice. He cleared his throat and continued, "But—let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can—"

"I have told you, no!" Voldemort spat, sweeping away from him. "My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"

"My Lord," Severus said calmly, though he could feel his heartbeat in his throat, "there is no question, surely—?"

"—But there _is_ a question, Severus. There is." He stopped pacing, and Snape felt a chill slide down his spine. "Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?" asked Voldemort, almost nonchalantly.

"I—I cannot answer that, my Lord."

"Can't you?" His voice hardened as he looked upon Severus. "My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

Severus swallowed, hard. He was fighting to keep his mind blank, but Voldemort did not seem interested in probing his mind at the moment; just the same, he directed his gaze at the coiling snake in its spherical cage. "I—I have no explanation, my Lord."

"I sought a third wand, Severus," Voldemort continued. His voice was barely a whisper. "The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

Severus felt cold and clammy; he knew precisely what was going to happen now…and he had failed in the one promise he had not been able to keep to Dumbledore… "My Lord," he murmured, "Let me go to the boy—"

"All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," Voldemort whispered, examining the wand he held, "wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner…and I think I have the answer." He cocked his head to one side, his expression slightly curious.

Snape was having an explosive moment of epiphany—Voldemort was going to kill him for the wand—and he would still be wrong—he would still have it wrong, because of the one flaw that had ruined all of Dumbledore's plans that night, a year ago, on top of the Astronomy Tower…

"Perhaps you already know it?" Voldemort asked, misreading Snape's features. "You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

"My Lord," Snape whispered.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner," Voldemort said smoothly.

And Severus was seized by a mad desire to shout at him—_Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!_—but he kept silent; this was his bargain, this was his penance, for what he had done…for all he had done…Potter was surely watching him, even now, hidden in the tunnel…

"You killed Albus Dumbledore," Voldemort said, and his red eyes flashed furiously. "While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

"My Lord!" Severus said, louder, with more strength. He raised his wand—

"It cannot be any other way," Voldemort replied, his gaze lingering for a moment on Severus's wand. "I must master the wand, Severus. "Master the wand, and I master Potter at last." He made a sudden, vicious, slashing movement, and Severus braced himself—but no spell came—he stared at Voldemort, confused—

And then in the corner of his eye, he saw the snake in its cage, approaching him—he gave a yell of shock, but it was too late—the starry cage had covered his head and shoulders, and the snake's fangs were inches from his neck, oozing venom—

Voldemort made a strangled hissing noise, and Nagini sunk her teeth deep into Severus's throat—he tried to scream, choking on his own blood, and tried to shove the cage off of himself as he collapsed on the dusty floor. The pain was agonizing—he wanted it to stop—

"I regret it," Voldemort said pitilessly. He flicked his wand lazily, and the snake was lifted off of Severus—

His vision was flickering, darkening, as he clapped a hand over the gushing wound on his neck; he fell over sideways…he had failed…and the entire world was appearing to him in blinking images, rather than consecutive movements…

Voldemort left the room, the snake in its cage floating alongside him. Severus felt himself slide onto the floor, his fingers still at his throat…perhaps the wound was not so bad…perhaps he could get up… And quite suddenly, he was detached from the pain, not a part of it, though he was aware of its existence…

He dimly heard a soft thud, and a moment later, Potter's face appeared over him, dirty, bloody, and burned. He was ashen. He knelt down next to Severus, who seized him by the collar…this was his chance, his one opportunity…he knew the trick, he could do it, wand or no…

"Take…it….Take it…" His throat was useless—it gurgled and bubbled with blood, but he had voice enough for this… And he felt the memories coming forward, coming free…everything that he had ever defended from Potter in Occlumency…everything he needed to know to trust him…

And then, another image—Granger, pale, thin, and covered with burns just like his, appeared over Potter's shoulder. Of course, he would go nowhere without her, or Weasley, who had to be nearby. She forced a flask into his hand, and Potter began to collect the memories…Severus's vision was darkening…the blackness was becoming more solid, was weighing on his chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't hear…

The room swam into view one final time, and Severus released his grip on Potter's—_Harry's_—collar. _Harry…Harry…Lily's son…_

"Look…at…me," he hissed through his teeth, and the boy, more because he was startled than anything else, did so.

And Severus was not looking at Potter, or even his father, whom he so strongly resembled. It was Lily. They were Lily's green eyes, her dazzling smile…

Severus blinked, and he saw the eyes again, the glittering green eyes under thick lashes, and the long auburn hair, tickling his face as she whirled around to face him, and the beautiful voice that laughed at him, greeted him in the warm, late summer air as the sun set over their favorite park…their home.


	33. Chapter 33

You all have been so patient! I am going to have time to read and answer your comments later this evening! I can't wait. You're all wonderful, beautiful, lovely people whom I adore. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your feedback, it's making all of my hard work feel worth it!

* * *

Filius fired a jinx directly at Travers, knocking him out instantly, and whirled around to find another opponent—the lawn was strewn with the dead and injured of both sides—but it made him sick to see that mostly, they were those who were defending the castle.

He saw Susan Bones dueling two Death Eaters at once, and ran to her aid—and then the horrible sound came—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could have been directly next to him; in fact, Filius looked around, momentarily startled. The voice crept down the back of his neck, and the sudden cessation of movement, the stopping of spells, all across the sprawling lawn, told him that everyone was experiencing the echoing, terrible voice that coiled its way through the air.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery." Out of the corner of his eye, Filius saw the two Death Eaters who had been fighting Susan exchange a glance—without a word, they began running towards the forest—but Filius was frozen in place, unable to move.

The cold voice was still speaking. "Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a lost and a waste."

Filius, under the cold that had seized him, felt anger bubble up at the lie.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately."

This was true—everywhere, Filius could see Death Eaters and hired killers fleeing the castle, disappearing into the dark forest.

"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured." Filius felt his stomach give a lurch.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences."

Filius saw Susan Bones drop to her knees, burying her head in her arms; she had burst into tears. He hurried over to comfort her. "It's all right," he promised. "Come now—are you hurt?"

"No," she whispered quietly, and she raised a hand to point to a stretch of lawn some fifty yards away. "But—"

"This time," the evil voice continued, high and cruel, "I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me."

Susan gave a little moan, and Filius patted her back, though he had to choke back a surge of bile in his throat.

"One hour."

The voice was gone, and the air seemed to fill again with sound—or, rather, with silence. The screams, bangs, and explosions had stopped. A few crickets chirped in the night air, under the sprawling blanket of stars that dangled overhead. Filius swallowed hard.

"Miss Bones, I want you to go—"

"Professor Sprout is hurt! And—and Ernie, and Hannah—and Colin Creevey!" Susan burst out. "Please, Professor, you've got to help them—they're over there—with Firenze, he's wounded too—"

"Professor—can I help?" Bill Weasley, who was sopping wet but apparently unharmed, came trotting up to Susan.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, we're going to take as many wounded as we can back to the Great Hall," Flitwick said, businesslike, but trying to mask the fear in his own voice. "Would you assist Miss Bones? I will begin supplying stretchers for the injured and find out what Madam Pomfrey requires of us."

Bill nodded once. He knelt before Susan. "You're all right?" he asked kindly, and she nodded. "It's going to be fine. Let's see about getting you some help, and then—"

"I can do whatever Madam Pomfrey needs," Susan interrupted stoutly, getting to her feet. She wiped her tears away. "I'm fine."

Filius patted her back. "Good girl. I must see to the wounded. You two should get inside and rally all the help you can find."

* * *

The Great Hall was loud, full of crying and horror-struck faces. Pain seemed to be a part of the air. Everyone who was uninjured, or, at least, treated enough that they could work, were bringing in the injured and dead from the lawn and the rest of the castle. Terry swallowed hard; this was the career path he had always wanted—to heal. But he had never thought that his first patients would be his friends.

He looked at Hannah Abbott, who lay unmoving on the stretcher being carried into the hall by two adult wizards. "Is she—?"

"Just wounded," said the taller of the two, who was bald, black, and had a very slow, deep, reassuring voice, even in the midst of chaos. "Her ankle seems to be broken, but that's it."

"Over there," Terry said, pointing to the area where the Slytherin table usually stood. Madam Pomfrey's first project had been to begin removing the House tables and arranging cots up and down the Great Hall. "Padma or I will see to her."

The wizard nodded once, not questioning for a moment the triage decision of a seventeen-year-old. Terry was grateful. He looked at the next person entering the hall—the girl—Rose Zeller—was being carried by Jimmy Peakes, and because she was not on a stretcher, Terry felt his heart lurch.

"She's Stunned, she'll wake up any moment," Jimmy said tersely.

"Slytherin table," Terry said, his voice hoarse. Jimmy nodded and carried Rose away.

Terry turned at looked at the hall. Already, the dead were being located—fifteen bodies lay on the cots that occupied the space of the Gryffindor table. You-Know-Who had known how many had been killed, had known how many were taken out of the battle…

And Terry had still not seen Cho…

"We've got another dead," said a sober voice. It was an Auror, who was carrying the body of a sixth year Slytherin girl. Terry nodded.

"Gryffindor," he muttered, jerking his head. The Auror nodded once and lifted the girl more carefully against his chest before walking on down the aisle. Two more people, bearing a stretcher, followed him, and Terry reached out for one of them. "Parvati, are you okay?"

"It's just a cut," Parvati said briskly, though the gash on her forehead was still oozing blood. "We need to help her." She was holding one end of a stretcher; Padma held the other, and on it, totally unconscious, lay—

"_Cho."_

Padma cut him off. "Terry, she's hurt badly, we need to get her help."

She was quite serious. Cho's right leg was plainly broken, but worst of all, it had been savagely torn apart, and the marks looked like…

"Greyback bit her," Padma said. "He wasn't transformed, but she's losing blood."

"Take her to Madam Pomfrey," Terry insisted. "Hufflepuff—right there—" His heart was throbbing in his throat; Padma looked seriously at him.

"She's going to be okay," she promised, and she and Parvati hurried away. Terry made a strangled noise.

And then, he heard one of the worst sounds he would ever encounter in his life. A man, screaming—screaming horribly. Terry whirled around, along with every other head in the hall, and saw George Weasley breaking away from Angelina Johnson, who lay on the Hufflepuff table—

"FRED! FRED, NO!"

Terry looked around again and saw Percy Weasley walking slowly into the hall. In his arms lay Fred, unmoving and plainly—

"NO, FRED, NO—PLEASE!" George's screams were terrible; Terry had never heard a person make a sound like it. George caught Percy halfway in the door and they both sank to their knees, holding Fred to his chest. "FRED!"

"We've got to get him over here, George…come on," Percy was saying faintly; he seemed to be in shock. Tears were streaming freely down his face. George refused to release Fred, and Terry knelt beside him.

"George—come on mate—"

"GET AWAY!" George roared, taking a swipe at Terry, who jumped back. This seemed to awaken something in Percy, who tightened his hold on Fred's body.

"There are more to help, George," he said. "Come on—let's—"

"Mr. Boot—I need your help with some of the minor injuries," said Madam Pomfrey, her hand descending on his shoulder. Her eyes lingered on the horrible scene—George clinging to his twin's body—for a moment, and her chin trembled. "Get them with the others, and come help me."

Terry nodded once and followed her. His heart seemed to be sinking under a horrible weight, but he could not let it break—not yet—not for Cho, nor Fred—nor anyone else—anyone else with whom he had grown up, laughed, cried, or anything else. There was much more to come.

And he had always wanted to heal.

* * *

Pomona woke. Her pain was agonizing, but she pushed it back, forcing her vision to focus, and she saw Minerva standing over her. She was in the Great Hall, gazing up at the clear, starry ceiling, and from the sounds around her, she guessed that it had become a kind of makeshift hospital.

"I'm sorry—I know it hurts. I wouldn't have woken you if I didn't have to," said Minerva in a voice constricted with emotion.

"That bad?" Pomona whispered—and she didn't need the look of anguish on Minerva's face to know that it was. Her entire body burned with pain.

"I'm supposed to give you this," Minerva said, holding up a vial of a potion. "It'll put you back to sleep and halt the damage until we're be able to get you the help you need."

"Not yet," Pomona begged. "Please—Minerva, is it over?"

Minerva pressed her lips together. "No," she answered. "We have one hour—he's told Potter to come to the forest, alone—"

"Don't let him go," Pomona said fiercely, and Minerva laid a soothing hand on her shoulder as pain wracked her again. She drew a shaky, shallow, painful breath.

"I will do my best, but I haven't yet seen him," Minerva said. A keening, terrible wail echoed through the hall, and Minerva closed her eyes for a moment.

"Who?" Pomona asked faintly.

Minerva's chin trembled. "Fred Weasley."

For a moment, Pomona wondered if she had misheard—but the look on Minerva's face was too heartbreaking to doubt.

"And Remus Lupin," Minerva continued, shuddering slightly. Her eyes were full of tears. "And—Pomona, I'm sorry—Nymphadora Tonks."

"Oh, no," she murmured. Suddenly, pain seized her again; she gasped and felt herself losing consciousness.

"You're going to be all right—Poppy is going to tend to you in just a moment," Minerva said. "Will you please take the potion? Please?"

"Dolohov…I don't know…the curse," Pomona murmured.

"Poppy does," Minerva insisted, here eyes shining with tears. "Please, Pomona. Please."

Pomona nodded once, and Minerva tipped the potion into her mouth. Instantly, she began to feel heavy, and the pain started to recede…

* * *

Parvati looked up at Michael Corner, who had just mended the cut she had received on her forehead. He nodded at her.

"You're all right to go and help," he said.

"Thanks," she replied. She, along with ten or so others—including Hannah Abbott and Alicia Spinnet, were seated on cots that filled the line normally occupied by the Slytherin table; they were hardly injured at all, and could be quickly put back to work.

Indeed, Alicia was already on her way over to help Oliver Wood and Neville Longbottom with the body of a girl—Parvati did not want to know who it was. She looked around anxiously. Where was Lavender?

"Hey, Parvati."

She turned; Dean stood a few feet away, looking positively exhausted. "You're all right," she said, stepping forward and giving him a hug.

"You too," he said. "Nice jinx back there, with those two Death Eaters. You really helped me out."

Parvati shook her head. "You would've done it for me." Dean gave her a faint smile. "Listen, have you seen Lavender? I'm—I'm kind of—worried…" She swallowed a lump in her throat, and Dean shook his head, looking equally upset.

"I haven't, but—y'know, there are a lot of people out in the castle, helping—she's probably with them," he said reassuringly.

"Right," Parvati said.

Dean cleared his throat. "I—um, I'd better go see what I can do."

"Yeah," she replied. "Be careful."

"You too." And Dean was gone, hurrying back up the aisle. Parvati sighed heavily and looked around again for Lavender—for Padma—for some indication that anyone else she loved was safe.

As she watched the door nervously, she saw, with a thrill of painful happiness, Harry, walking into the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione followed him. She started towards them, wanting to tell Harry—what, precisely? That they were going to keep fighting? That he shouldn't believe You-Know-Who?

She came to a sudden stop. All three of them had their eyes on Ron's family, who were gathered around Fred's body. A chill stole over her. Now led by Ron, Harry and Hermione walked slowly, as though drawn by some supernatural force, towards the family.

Ron's mother lay across Fred's body, sobbing; his father looked as though he didn't know what to do or say. All of Ron's brothers—and Fleur Delacour, who held her arm around a softly sobbing Ginny—were gathered around.

But the worst was seeing George's face. He stared blankly, straight ahead, his face glazed with tears. He was not in the Great Hall. He was not in Hogwarts. He was somewhere far, far away. Even the idea of what was going through his mind was like a knife in Parvati's stomach.

"I can't imagine what he's feeling."

Parvati turned suddenly; Padma stood right behind her, her eyes full of tears. She threw her arms around her sister's neck. Tears burned her eyes. "I love you, Padma."

There was a moment of silence, and Padma sniffled miserably into Parvati's shoulder. "I love you too," she cried.

After a few minutes, they broke apart, wiping their eyes. Parvati smiled slightly and tucked a strand of hair behind her sister's ear. "You're okay? Do you need my help? How's Anthony?"

Padma nodded, but she looked unusually grave. "He's fine—but—"

Parvati's stomach dropped. "What?"

Padma drew a breath, and more tears filled her eyes. "Par, I've got something you need to see." She took Parvati's hand. "Come with me."

With a terrible sense of foreboding, Parvati followed her sister down the aisle of cots, to the critically injured area. She saw Professor Sprout, being tended to by a tall witch with white hair; Professor McGonagall staunching blood from a wound on Firenze's leg; Professor Trelawney, working her wand over Lucy Finch, a Muggle-born Gryffindor, who was far too young to be here, and whose legs had been crushed by something; Susan Bones, leaning tenderly over Ernie Macmillan, her eyes full of tears; Angelina Johnson, who was sitting up, her arm bandaged—but she was crying uncontrollably. Katie Bell held one arm around her shoulders.

Padma stopped suddenly, blocking Parvati's view of the next cot. Parvati frowned. "She—she keeps thinking that I'm you—I—I thought—" And she stepped aside.

Lavender lay on the cot, positively white in the gleaming light of the starry ceiling. Half of her face—half of her neck, her right arm—even part of her leg—were torn by vicious, bloody wounds. Parvati dropped to her knees beside the cot. Lavender's eyes were closed.

"Is she—?"

"She'll be all right," Padma said softly, kneeling next to her. She reached under the cot and produced a bottle of green ointment and a small piece of cloth. "Madam Pomfrey says there'll be scars, and that she'll need a Blood-Replenishing Potion until we can get her to St. Mungo's—but she's going to be okay—"

And Parvati raised her hands, running her fingers through her long hair—which had come free of its plain entirely…she tried to take a deep breath, looking between Lavender's face and Padma's—and then she burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. She wept uncontrollably, unable to stop herself. She felt Padma pull her into her arms, and she sobbed into her sister's shoulder.

But, after a few minutes, Padma grabbed her shoulders. Parvati sniffled, staring at her. Her expression was fierce. "Parvati, that's enough," she said, with only the slightest quaver in her voice. "We're running out of time. Do you want to help Lavender?"

Parvati drew a shaky breath and nodded. Padma pressed the ointment and handkerchief into her hands. "Apply this, very gently, to the wounds. She might wake up, because it stings—but I've told her, it's the best thing for them."

Parvati nodded. "Okay."

"I'm off to help Madam Pomfrey," Padma continued.

Parvati nodded again and watched her sister go. Then she turned to Lavender, who was breathing lightly, obviously asleep. Parvati felt bad for disturbing her rest. She tipped the bottle of ointment over on the handkerchief, and very gently began daubing the strong-smelling medicine on the deep cuts that tracked down the right side of Lavender's face, onto her neck.

Immediately, Lavender reacted—she had not been sleeping very deeply. She gave a sudden shudder, like she had felt a chill, and her eyes opened.

"That's you, right, Parvati?" she whispered. Parvati gave a tremulous smile and nodded. Lavender sighed, wincing as Parvati continued to apply the ointment. "Tell Padma I'm sorry for getting you confused."

Parvati gave a slight snort. "It wouldn't be the first time it's ever happened, Lav."

Lavender reached out her uninjured arm and took Parvati's wrist. "You've been crying."

Parvati squeezed her eyes shut. "I couldn't help it," she said. "I—I thought you were—"

Lavender sighed again. "Well, I'm not," she promised. She met Parvati's eyes. "I'm all right, okay?"

"Okay," Parvati replied, holding her hand tightly. "I'm going to keep putting this medicine on, all right? Just try to relax."

"You try relaxing like this," Lavender joked weakly. But her eyes filled with tears, so she closed them quickly, clenching her jaw. "Okay, I'm ready."


	34. Chapter 34

"I want to see him," Angelina whispered, her shoulders shaking as she cried into Katie's neck.

"No, sweetheart, you don't," Katie said soothingly. Her eyes flickered over to the heartbreaking scene in the middle of the Gryffindor table; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were both crying together; George seemed to be comatose—he was slumped against the wall, stony-faced; Ginny sat near Fred's head, smoothing his hair gently as she gazed down at him.

Ron, who was holding tightly to Hermione's hand, was gazing down at the two bodies nearest Fred. Katie frowned, craning her neck. She was quite shocked to see that one of them was Professor Lupin; she swallowed a lump that rose in her throat. The other was a pretty young woman with vibrantly pink hair.

Katie wondered, for a moment, where Harry was, and a wave of fear rose in her—

"Ouch," Angelina moaned, and Katie realized that she had tightened her grip on her shoulders too much.

"Sorry," she said, pushing away the fear; neither Ron nor Hermione would have let Harry go anywhere near the forest. He was probably helping track down the injured, she told herself. She returned her attention to Angelina. "Do you need to lie down?"

"No," murmured Angelina. She was shockingly pale and obviously disorientated, but she tried to stand up, clutching her bandaged arm to her body. "I—I need to see Fred—I need to talk to George—"

"Ange—_whoa_—"

"Oh…"

"Okay, I've got you," Katie told her. She had swayed dangerously, and Katie caught her just in time. "Come lie down, you need a Blood-Replenishing Potion before you get up…"

"George should've gone with him…should've left me," Angelina said, her tears spilling over again.

"If he'd done that," Katie began, almost choking on the words in her throat, "If he'd done that, Fred could still have been—been killed, and so could George, and so could you…"

"I'm so sorry, George," Angelina whispered, and Katie bit her lip, hard, to stop from crying.

"How is she?"

Katie looked up and saw Alicia kneeling down on the other side of Angelina's cot. "She wants to see George…and Fred."

Alicia nodded, smoothing back Angelina's hair. "Angie, can you hear me?"

"Alicia," she moaned. "It's my fault…George should've left me…"

Alicia sighed heavily. "Close your eyes, all right? Try to rest…" Angelina went quiet, but Alicia continued to hold her hand. Her chin trembled.

"I had no idea," Katie said softly.

Alicia nodded and sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Forever. You wouldn't believe how upset she was when—when Fred asked her out, because George was afraid…"

Katie reached out and placed her hand over Alicia's. "Where's Oliver?"

"He's all right. He's helping with bringing in the wounded," said Alicia, wiping a tear away.

"Good."

There was a sudden shifting movement behind her, and Katie looked around. Ginny Weasley stood at the end of Angelina's cot, her face tearstained and red. She gave a hearty sniff.

"Ginny," Katie said, rising and embracing her. Ginny hugged her back. "I'm so sorry." She felt Ginny nod.

After a moment, she drew back. "I was wondering if there was something I can help with."

Katie bit her lip. "Are you sure?"

Ginny nodded again. "My parents are—they're with George. My brother and his wife are helping. I should too." Her eyes lingered over Angelina again. "How is she?"

"She'll be all right," Alicia said. "Do you want to stay here, and help us with the injured?"

Katie could see in her face that Ginny had no desire to stay in the Great Hall any longer than she had to; she could not blame her. "Oliver's working out on the lawn."

Ginny nodded. "I can help there."

"Ginny?"

Angelina had woken up, and Katie knelt beside her again. "It's all right, Angelina…"

"Ginny, I'm so sorry," said Angelina fervently. "I—It was my fault—"

Ginny knelt beside Katie and placed a gentle hand on Angelina's shoulder. "You brought back one of my brothers for me, Angelina. It's—it's not fair…but at least it's one…" her voice shook, "And you're all right."

"How's Angelina?"

"I'm okay, Oliver," Angelina said sleepily.

Katie looked up at Oliver, whose features were inexpressibly exhausted as Alicia embraced him. She put an arm around Ginny. "Oliver, Ginny wants to help."

Oliver didn't bat an eye. "Right. Well, we've still got some people waiting out on the lawn for help. You want to come with me, Ginny?"

She looked at Katie, who nodded encouragingly. "I'll be along as soon as I get Angelina the potion she needs."

"Me too," Alicia promised, and Ginny nodded, rising.

"Let's get some blankets," Oliver told Ginny. "Neville's out there waiting for me."

Ginny hurried after Oliver, and Katie sank down beside Angelina's cot again. She gave her a faint smile, which Angelina only half-returned. Alicia, however, remained standing for a moment, before she seemed to shake out of a reverie and return her attention to Angelina.

"Do you want to go with Oliver?" Katie asked, and Alicia shook her head, taking hold of Angelina's hand again. Katie touched her arm. "Go with him. I'll look after this one."

"No," Alicia said softly, but Angelina's eyes opened, and she frowned at Alicia, her chin trembling.

"Alicia, go," she said. "Katie's with me. I'll be all right—one of us should be looking after our—" she broke off, looking confused. "Just go."

Alicia smiled at her. "I'll come back."

"You'd better," Angelina said indignantly, and Katie chuckled.

"We'll see you in a bit," she said to Alicia, who finally smiled and got up, hurrying after Oliver.

Katie turned back to Angelina, who was slipping out of consciousness again. She glanced up for a moment, heaving a sigh, and she caught the eye of Seamus Finnigan, who was a few cots away, helping another of the wounded. Katie smiled feebly at him, and he nodded. Then her view was obstructed; Hermione Granger, looking very shaken beneath many half-healed burns that covered her face, had approached Angelina's cot and sank down, looking at Katie.

"Hi," Katie said kindly.

Hermione gave a tight smile. "Is she all right?"

"Fine," Katie promised, with an assuring nod. She looked over at the Weasley family. "How are they?"

Hermione shook her head, and blinked hard. "I don't know. Percy's gone to help, with Bill—and Fleur. Their parents are—" She broke off and sighed, staring off into space for a moment.

Katie bit her lip. "Where's Harry, Hermione?"

"He's with—wait," Hermione said, and a look of horror filled her face; Katie felt her stomach drop. Hermione leapt to her feet and looked around the Great Hall. "Oh, _no_—no, no, _no! Ron!"_

Ron, who had just been helping a younger student sit up and take a drink of some potion, looked up at Hermione. He seemed to know instantly what was happening—he too got up, ran over, seized Hermione's hand, and together they ran from the Great Hall.

Katie's heart was pounding. She looked down at Angelina's watch, which she held. Fifteen minutes to go.

* * *

"How many are there?" Ginny Weasley asked.

Oliver swallowed, leading the way out onto the lawn. "I'd say we've found about twenty out here…around thirty in the castle, and that seems to be it. A lot more injured, though. We've got to go this way," he said, pointing to a path that wrapped around the castle. "This is where we found Professor Sprout…there are a couple more."

Neville Longbottom came jogging up the path, huffing and puffing. He looked very upset. "Hey, Oliver, there's a girl down here—I thought she was—" He broke off, looking for a moment at Ginny, and blinked. "She's alive, but she's really hurt—and there's one more body—"

"I'll help you, Neville," Oliver said. "Ginny, can you stay with the girl until we can bring a stretcher out for you?" Ginny nodded, and Oliver patted her back. "Lead the way," he said to Neville.

Around this part of the castle, the lawn was stained with spattered blood; a few bodies still lay on the ground, and other volunteers, visible only by the pinpoints of light their wands cast in the darkness, were scouring the grounds for any more injured or dead. Oliver slowed; Neville had just knelt beside a girl who lay on the ground, clutching her middle and weeping softly.

"Ginny," Oliver said gently, but she was already beside her, laying one of the blankets she carried over the girl.

"This is Ellie," Neville said softly.

"Hi," said Ginny, giving her a faint smile.

Ellie blinked, and a few tears slipped down her cheeks. She let Ginny take hold of her hand. "I'm sorry…I shouldn't have sneaked back, I know…but please, I just want to go home…I want to see my mother…"

Oliver swallowed a lump in his throat. Neville caught his eye and nodded further down the path. "You'll be all right, Ginny?" he asked.

Ginny nodded. "We'll both be just fine," she promised. "We'll get you inside in a minute, Ellie, you'll be safe."

The girl gave a little sob, and Ginny placed a hand on her forehead. She looked at Oliver and Neville. "We'll be all right," she whispered.

Oliver nodded, and followed Neville along the path. "Who is it?" he asked.

"Colin Creevey," Neville answered, his voice shaking slightly, though Oliver pretended not to notice. He let out a heavy sigh.

"He was too young to be here," he said. "How did he even get in?"

Neville shook his head. "I don't know, but…I wouldn't have expected anything less of him."

Oliver met his eyes seriously for a moment. "Nor would I." They had arrived at the spot where Colin lay; someone had arranged his limbs and closed his eyes. He was shockingly pale, bleached by the moonlight. "Blimey," Oliver murmured, feeling the word stick in his throat.

He glanced at Neville, who looked inexpressibly worn as he said, "It's getting close to four. We need to get him inside."

Oliver nodded and knelt beside Colin's head, taking great care to lift up the light, positively tiny body; for a moment, Oliver had the terrible impression that something was missing from it, for that was the only reason that a human being could be so weightless. Then Neville took Colin's feet, and they began the walk back to the castle in silence.

Despite the centuries carved into Neville's face, which Oliver knew were reflected in his own, they seemed to be pretending that they were not, in fact, carrying the body of a classmate—a boy younger than either of them.

Oliver tried to remember Colin—he had been young, very young, when Oliver was too grown up to pay much attention to first years. But he did remember the boy with the camera—the first student to get Petrified—the boy who had so worshipped Harry—the boy who had interrupted Quidditch practice more times than Oliver could count—

And as he looked down at Colin's still features, he was visited by an overwhelming urge to laugh and sob; it stabbed his throat, and he felt his eyes fill with tears.

He and Neville had reached the castle, and Neville was looking at him oddly. Oliver cleared his throat and said gruffly, "You know what? I can manage him alone, Neville."

Neville stopped walking, still staring at him, but nodded. Oliver leaned forward and hefted Colin's frighteningly, emptily weightless body over his shoulder. He blinked once, straightening his back and blinking hard, and walked into the Great Hall, leaving Neville alone to return outside.

He kept his eyes on the flagstones as he walked into the Great Hall, but he could feel many eyes upon him. He walked straight to the Gryffindor table and lowered Colin gently onto one of the cot, straightening up quickly and rubbing his eyes hard.

"Oh, my goodness," said a trembling voice behind him. Oliver turned. Professor McGonagall, white to the lips, stood at a nearby cot. She walked, as if in a trance, towards Colin. "Oh, my—" She reached out and seized Oliver's forearm in a tight grip. He did not mind; it allowed him to let his eyes water once again. Then Professor McGonagall looked wildly around the hall—"His brother—his brother isn't—he isn't here?"

Oliver looked at her, dumbfounded. "I—I don't know, Professor—"

Without another word, Professor McGonagall hurried off up the aisle, looking in every bed, stopping every student well enough to speak. Oliver wiped at his tears with his sleeve, sniffing heartily, and looked down at Colin for a moment; the dark gray light of pre-dawn was filtering through the enchanted ceiling, illuminating the crimson and gold banner that hung over his body.

* * *

Poppy Pomfrey ran a hand through her hair; she was positively white as she leaned over Pomona Sprout. Augusta stood directly beside her, watching her face anxiously. Because Minerva had been worried that their last point of defense would be the Great Hall, students and staff were hurrying around. With only five minutes before the deadline that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had given, there was a rush to move the bodies of those who had died defending the castle, and those fighters who were critically injured, to a safe area. The wounded were being taken to a quiet, windowless room just off of the Great Hall, where they would be protected from any further harm, and the dead to another one like it.

"Can we move her safely?" Augusta asked Poppy, who was still looking very worriedly down at Pomona.

Poppy shook her head. "I—I don't know. It may not hurt her condition, but if it does, it could become quite serious."

Augusta rubbed the back of her neck. "You've seen this curse before, haven't you?"

"Yes," Poppy said, "and no. I saw a different form of it—she didn't need a hospital—and she was a teenager—I can't even give Pomona the hospital wing."

"They're coming down the line," Augusta said, nodding to the people who were carefully lifting stretchers and carrying them to safety; they were only a few beds away. "We'll have to do—Neville?"

"What happened?" Neville looked down at Pomona, stunned beyond even the weariness that bled through his features. He looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and part of him seemed to be a million miles away, unreachable.

"She's been cursed," Augusta told him gently.

"All right," Poppy said, and Augusta and Neville turned; two students had just arrived to move Professor Sprout. "Miss Patil, you and Mr. Boot may take Professor Sprout, but I want one of you to remain with her. Report any change in her condition to me immediately—and keep these in your hands." She thrust two potions into the girl's hands, and she nodded to the boy who stood beside her. Carefully, they lifted the cot and walked slowly away.

"I've got to see to Johnson—thank you for looking after her, Augusta," Poppy said dazedly, already hurrying away. "Miss Johnson, you'll be up and about _only_ if you drink the whole potion!"

Augusta turned to Neville, who was still staring at the spot where Pomona had lain. "Neville, I—" she swallowed hard; rarely had she ever found herself lost for words. "I know you care very deeply for Professor Sprout." He didn't give any sign that he heard her, but she pressed on, "She's going to be all right. I promise you."

But still, Neville stared at the floor, seemingly lost in his own head, the weight on his shoulders getting heavier by the moment—and then Augusta felt a shot of horror jolt down her spine, for she was gazing at Frank—at Alice—

She threw her arms around Neville, and he seemed to startle back to life. She clutched him tightly to her chest, feeling all of his agony and pain, absorbing it, taking on his weariness and exhaustion. He patted her back softly, and after a moment, she pulled away.

He gave her a very faint, hollow smile. "Thanks, Gran," he murmured. He looked around, a little confused. "I've—uh—" He looked down at his watch—then something inside of him seemed to stiffen. "I've got to take care of something. I—I'll see you later."

"Neville," said Augusta, ready to stop him from whatever he was doing, because she felt in her heart that it was dangerous, that it would risk his life, and she could not allow that to happen—not after all of this time—and then he turned. He was a different boy—in fact, he was not a boy at all.

She swallowed, feeling her chin tremble just slightly. "Good luck."


	35. Chapter 35

Three minutes to go…

Two minutes and forty-one seconds…

One minute and thirty-nine seconds…

Fifty-three seconds…

Yaxley and Dolohov, his face recently healed from the Conjunctivitis Curse that had hit him, came crashing through the bushes, and Narcissa, who was clutching Lucius's pocket watch, felt her heart stop; Potter was not with them. The clearing, now full of dancing firelight, seemed to take on an odd chill; even the giants sat up and looked around, scowling at the pair.

The Dark Lord was standing before the fire, his eyes closed and his hands folded over his wand. The snake coiled and uncoiled in its bizarre cage, floating behind his head. He did not look up right away, and this allowed the pall of Potter's absence to settle more completely over the scene. Greyback grunted and licked his lips greedily, and Bellatrix's bloodied cheeks were flushed with color; she was excited at the prospect of entering the castle once again…

But the Dark Lord had said that half of their fighters were dead…Draco could be among them, and if he was, by any chance, still alive…no Death Eater would spare a thought for him in the coming slaughter. Narcissa reached one trembling hand for Lucius's wasted arm. He seemed to have turned to stone.

Yaxley and Dolohov took a few steps forward, and the blood-red eyes opened.

"No sign of him, My Lord," grunted Dolohov.

A rush of frozen air seemed to blast through the clearing, dimming the fire's warmth. Fury burned in the unforgiving eyes, and the Dark Lord gazed at the wind he held in his fingertips.

_Let it end. Let it end_, Narcissa thought desperately, closing her eyes. She wanted this to be done—her heart beat erratically, hoping against hope that Potter would at least be foolish enough to try and face the Dark Lord alone—at least then, then, she might get away, she might be allowed back to the castle—she might find Draco.

Bellatrix leaned forward, positively trembling with anticipation, and Narcissa hated her bitterly—hated her bloodlust, her violence, and her cruelty. "My Lord," she whispered, trying to draw his attention—but he held up one hand and drew an even, slow breath. Bellatrix was not upset; she gazed at the Dark Lord in a way that made Narcissa feel ill.

The Dark Lord gazed into the fire. "I thought he would come. I expected him to come."

Narcissa closed her eyes, feeling the burn of tears. Could she outrun them? Could she get ahead of the battalion, if they were returning? No—she would be struck down dead before anyone let her give a warning of any kind.

The Dark Lord was still speaking, his voice hardening into shards of ice as he hissed, "I was, it seems…mistaken."

Narcissa stifled a sob; Lucius's arm was still unmoving and lifeless beneath her fingers. A vacuum of silence pressed against her ears—the order was coming—one second—two seconds—three—

"You weren't."

Narcissa started to her feet; she was not alone. To roars from the giants and cries of shock and amusement from the Death Eaters, Harry Potter strode into the clearing. He was white as chalk beneath his matted black hair, his face and clothing covered in dirt and blood—he could already have been dead. Those eyes were lifeless.

And Narcissa was seized with an entirely different feeling. The boy had not come to fight. He had come to die. This boy, Draco's age, had come to be murdered. He held no wand. He was not going to challenge the Dark Lord.

She was not the only one who had noticed. The giant Hagrid, who was bound and tied to a tree at the edge of the clearing, shouted, "HARRY! NO! NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH—?"

But Rowle, who was nearest him, snapped his wand through the air, bellowing, "QUIET!" Hagrid was struck silent, and all eyes moved to the electricity that crackled between Potter and the Dark Lord, facing each other across the dancing fire. Bellatrix was on her feet, panting, as her eyes darted back and forth between them.

"Your wand, Narcissa," hissed Lucius, directly in her ear. "Draw your wand, _now."_

It did not seem fair, to outnumber the boy in this way—but it would draw more attention if she did not. Her fingers trembling, her gaze fixed upon Potter's impassive face, she withdrew her wand from her pocket.

The Dark Lord was smiling—but it was evil, frightening. He whispered, "Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived." He raised his wand.

Narcissa's heart stopped; Potter was not going to defend himself—he was not going to fight—he was alone, and Narcissa was seized by a desire to cry out, to stop the Dark Lord—

"_Avada Kedavra."_

The flash of green light was blindingly bright, and Narcissa flung up an arm to cover her eyes—there was a yell, a thud—and then more whispers and cries of shock—

"_What—?"_

"_What was that?"_

"My Lord_…my Lord_…"

Narcissa blinked hard, spots of light bursting in her eyes, and she saw Bellatrix hurrying over to the Dark Lord, who appeared, in the strangest manner, to have collapsed in the flash of light.

"_My Lord…"_

"That will do," said the cold voice, and Narcissa, still blinking the spots away, could see him getting to his feet.

Bellatrix reached for him as if she wanted to embrace him, to help him stand. "My Lord, let me—"

Lucius took a step forward, like most of the other Death Eaters, but Narcissa remained rooted to the spot. Was she the only one who felt the fury coming from the Dark Lord?

"I do not require assistance," he snapped. He rose, and the Death Eaters scattered. Narcissa took a step backward. Bellatrix remained kneeling on the ground, gazing up at the Dark Lord. "The boy," he said, pointing across the fire. "Is he dead?"

Narcissa's eyes, like everyone else's, flickered over to the unmoving body that lay in the fallen leaves covering the forest floor. It struck her as strange that no one—not even the Dark Lord—was willing to take the step forward and see if the boy was dead. _If _he was dead, after being hit by that curse. It was absurd, even considering that he had survived once before. The Dark Lord's collapse upon using the spell had frightened them all.

But Narcissa did not notice that she was standing furthest from the other Death Eaters, or that the Dark Lord had raised his wand again—

"You," he ordered, and a Stinging Hex hit Narcissa; she yelped in pain. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Scowling and rubbing her arm, which now had a searing welt across it, Narcissa walked to where Potter lay—and then she felt the fear. She felt the unnamed fear that the Dark Lord must—that he, by some miracle, had survived again. Her heartbeat quickened as she leaned down, her back to the fire, and laid a hand on Potter's head. She pulled back one eyelid—the green eye twitched, and it was all Narcissa could do not to leap back in shock—she slipped one hand beneath his shirt, and—

_This is impossible._

Potter's heartbeat was not only there, pounding beneath her fingers, but it was strong and fast, thundering powerfully, despite all logic and reason.

_This is impossible._

Narcissa wanted to scream, whether from joy or fear or horror, she did not know; all she knew was that hope had flared to life in her heart once again.

_This is impossible._

She had only a split second to decide what to do—and she knew what it must be.

"_Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"_

She lowered her thick curtain of hair so that Potter was completely obscured from view, and waited, feeling his heart beat once—twice—three times—

"_Yes."_

Narcissa clenched the hand that still rested on Potter's chest, and stood suddenly to face the Death Eaters. She lifted a haughty expression, her best imitation of Bellatrix, to her features.

"He is dead!" she shouted, and she watched as jets of red and white sparks fired into the air and cries of celebration filled the clearing. Narcissa stood before the boy's body, her eyes locked with the Dark Lord's. He did not know she had practiced Occlumency with Bellatrix in childhood—she could do it in her sleep, if she wanted to. She lifted one corner of her mouth in a practiced, congratulatory smile, and gave him a slight nod of her head.

The red eyes gleamed with delighted malice, secure in a victory that was not won, that could not be won because of this bizarre miracle, this defiance of nature that lay on the ground behind her, but Narcissa did not care. She was going to the castle. She did not care that if the Dark Lord—or even her sister—discovered her betrayal, she would be worse than dead. She did not care about blood status, her family, her husband's cause, or anything beside the fact that she was going to get Draco, and very soon, this would all be over.

* * *

Hagrid had never thought that pain like this could exist. Losing his father—losing his best friend—losing his last parental figure—the pain of those things was nothing to the pain he felt now; it was the loss of a child, a child who was not his, but who was the closest thing to it. Because he was forced to, commanded to by the curse that drove his limbs, Hagrid plodded onward through the trees, cradling Harry's dead body in his arms as he sobbed and wailed.

The Death Eaters around him were laughing, celebrating, and Hagrid could do nothing to lash out at them; the spell just kept pushing him onward, You-Know-Who, the Death Eaters, and the giants, Golgomath and another chieftain, in his wake.

Then, as they reached the edge of the forest, Hagrid caught sight of movement in the thinning trees. Centaurs, the ones he had failed to rally when coming with Grawp to join the battle, appeared between the trees, undoubtedly drawn by the deafening noise of the giants' footfalls.

Finally—something he could be furious for—some way he could dissolve the pain of the burden he carried in his heart, the sight of the body in his arms—

"BANE!" he roared. "Happy now, are yeh, that yeh didn' fight, yeh cowardly bunch o' nags? Are yeh happy Harry Potter's—d-dead…?" And he burst into tears again, because it was torture even to say the words, to imagine that every sign his senses gave him was correct, and that the boy he had loved so much now lay dead in his arms…

Hagrid gave another howl of anguish, but continued to plod forward; if it weren't for the spell, he would have sunk to his knees long ago. Finally, they reached the sprawling lawn, which was misted over in the hour before dawn. The grass, which rippled in the wind, was bloodstained and burned, and the castle high on the hill was dark and quiet. The only candles burned in the windows of the Great Hall.

Against the dark gray sky, Hagrid could see glowing embers and smoke unfurling from two of the towers; another had lost its roof. A huge chunk of wall was missing from the side of the building, and the thick black smoke of a smoldering fire burned there as well.

"Stop."

Hagrid lurched to a halt, unable to fight the spell, and felt more tears fall down his face. Hogwarts was gone, Harry was gone, and all that remained was the cruelty and hatred of a world that Hagrid had fought against for all of his life. The feeling worsened; dementors were present, and their chill filled the air. Hagrid closed his eyes, weeping again, as memories surfaced, swirling one over the other, of Azkaban…his father…the day he was expelled…Professor Dumbledore…and Harry's dead body, lying in his arms…

* * *

"Ouch," Angelina said, scowling as Alicia tied the sling around her arm. "That hurts, Al."

Alicia was in no mood for her complaints. "Well, as you can't use this arm, and you refuse to just stay with the other wounded," she muttered tensely, "You're at least—"

"Alicia." Angelina was a little shocked.

Alicia closed her eyes. "No. I know. I'm sorry. You want to fight."

"I want to stay with my family," Angelina said fiercely, adjusting the sling around her neck. "What's left of it, anyway."

Alicia nodded. "I know."

Angelina sighed impatiently, looking around the Great Hall. There were about thirty fighters left; the injured had been taken to a safe room, as had the bodies—Fred's body. Angelina pushed the image away; she was only at half of her best right now, and she had had to fight Madam Pomfrey tooth and nail to be allowed to remain with the fighters, given her condition.

"Drink that," Alicia said, nodding to the bottle Angelina held. It was a Blood-Replenishing Potion. "You're looking pale again."

Grimacing at the bitter taste, Angelina downed the potion in one and set the bottle aside, reaching into her pocket and drawing her wand. "I wish Harry would get here," she said, sitting down against the wall as she felt the warm rush of her own blood flooding her cheeks. Her eyes flickered over to Professor McGonagall, who was deep in conversation with a wizard in dark blue robes—Angelina was fairly sure he was called Kingsley.

Alicia nodded, sliding down beside her. "I'd really like a plan."

"How long have we got?" Angelina asked.

"About two minutes." Alicia bit her lip, jiggling her legs nervously. "But…Ange, do you…do you feel that?"

Angelina frowned. "Feel what?"

"It's like…something's wrong, like something bad's about to happen." Alicia looked very worried. "I don't like this. I haven't seen—"

The doors of the Great Hall banged open, and everyone spun, or leapt to their feet; wands came out everywhere—and then they saw that it was Hermione and Ron, sprinting down the length of the Great Hall.

"I feel it now, Al," Angelina said softly, rising. Foreboding was turning her stomach into lead. "That's not good…" All eyes in the hall turned to the conversation happening near where the staff table normally stood.

Hermione, her eyes full of tears, was whispering anxiously to Professor McGonagall, while Ron stood beside her, white as chalk, his eyes vacant and horrified. Professor McGonagall clapped a hand over her mouth, just as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, followed by Bill, George, Percy, and Fleur Delacour, joined the knot of people. Mrs. Weasley seized Ron's arm, and he murmured something to her; she turned white.

"What's going on?" Angelina barked, and suddenly, everyone in the Great Hall was looking at her. She caught George's eye for a moment and cleared her throat. "Somebody tell us!"

"Where's Harry?" asked Susan Bones, from the other side of the room.

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, about to speak—but she couldn't seem to find her voice. Hermione had tears pouring down her face now, and all of the other Weasleys, as well as Kingsley, looked incredibly upset. And Angelina knew the answer. She looked at Alicia in mute horror.

"Now what?" Alicia whispered.

Angelina looked down at Alicia's watch; they were over their hour now by almost ten minutes.

Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, had raised both hands. "I want—I want everyone to begin work on defensive spells around this room—our time has run out—"

"We're fighting again, Professor!" shouted Oliver from the back of the hall, and nearly everyone in the room echoed him in agreement.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Mr. Wood," McGonagall barked.

"He's not just going to let us live," Angelina said loudly. "He can't. Not now."

Professor McGonagall stared at her.

"Think about it," she continued, becoming irrationally angry. "We all know what Harry's done—he went and—for _us_. For _all_ of us. You-Know-Who's an idiot if he thinks we'll just let that go—"

"Hear, hear!" shouted Neville hoarsely, and he too looked close to tears. Everyone in the room was staring seriously, fiercely at Professor McGonagall, their wands drawn and their faces set.

Professor McGonagall stared at the small crowd. "All—all right." She swallowed, and opened her mouth to speak again—when the terrible voice filled the air for the third time that night. Angelina tried to cover both of her ears with just one arm; it was torture to listen to him speak.

"Harry Potter is dead."

Screams echoed through the Great Hall, and Angelina felt her knees give way.

"He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."

"Oh no, no, no," Alicia had burst into tears. Angelina looked over to where Professor McGonagall, staring directly ahead, stood with the Weasleys and Hermione, who all looked horrified. Ginny was frozen to the spot, her eyes wide and her mouth half-open in a silent cry of shock.

But murmurs of anger were rumbling through the hall. "Liar," Oliver spat, and Angelina had to agree with him. The terrible voice was still ringing through the air.

"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family."

Angelina looked around. People whose eyes were full of tears were shaking with fury, shouting out insults to the disembodied voice that coiled through the air. She saw Neville Longbottom staring directly up at the ceiling, his face scarlet with anger.

"Come out of the castle," said the voice, "kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

A ringing silence signaled the end of the speech.

"Is he lying?" someone shouted.

No one replied; the answer seemed clear.

"What are we going to do?" called Hannah.

Angelina stepped forward, blinking back tears. "I'm not giving up!" she shouted, her voice shaking only slightly. "It's not my place to say it for the rest of you, but I know I'm not going to build anything with that monster—I won't. Not after tonight." And for a moment, she caught George's eye, and the contact was burning, intense.

"I won't either," said Dean Thomas loudly. He stood suddenly and stepped up to join her. "Not a chance."

"Nor me," said Seamus Finnigan, rising.

More voices were joining Angelina, crying out in agreement—George was still staring directly at her—the rest of the Weasleys were looking fearsome—Hermione had stopped crying, and she and Ginny stood together—Luna Lovegood joined them, taking each of their hands—

"We shall go and meet him, as he requests," said Professor Flitwick, who stood near Angelina. This silenced the entire hall at once. He seemed to be speaking for Professor McGonagall, who looked as though she no longer could; her face was carved in stone.

"Yeah."

Neville had finally spoken, and everyone looked around at him in shock. He took a few steps away from his grandmother, his face set angrily.

"It's not safe to stay holed up in here," he said loudly. "They'll just come in after us. And I—I don't want to wait for them to come here."

"Neville," said his grandmother, looking shocked.

"I want to go to them, I want them to fear us," he continued, ignoring her. "Because Harry or no Harry—we know we're in the right—and a part of them knows it, too. I believe that we can do this for everyone we lost tonight. I won't let them die for nothing."

There was another long period of silence. Angelina stared at Neville, utterly stunned, and she was not the only one.

"There was a time when he didn't know one end of a broomstick from another," murmured Oliver.

"No kidding," Angelina whispered back.

"Well said, Mr. Longbottom," shouted Professor Flitwick. "Come, wands away," he said. "We must at least put on the appearance of an armistice."

Angelina swallowed hard and looked at Alicia and Oliver, who were watching her anxiously.

"Perhaps you should stay," Alicia said, but she shook her head.

"I'll be all right," she promised. "Just wishing we had a plan."

"Don't we all?" Oliver asked.

Professor McGonagall was leading the way out of the Great Hall; the thirty or so fighters followed her, but someone was hanging back. George was staring at her, waiting for her to come along.

"I'll see you out there," Angelina said softly to Oliver and Alicia, and she hurried to join him. She took George's hand in her uninjured one, leaning close to his missing ear. "I'm here," she whispered. He didn't seem to be able to speak, but he nodded once, squeezed her hand, and they walked together to the entrance hall.

And for now, it would be enough.

* * *

The twentieth of June, nineteen years ago—Edgar Bones and his family had been murdered before Minerva's eyes. The twenty-ninth of July, seventeen years ago—she had heard of the deaths of Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Caradoc Dearborn, eighteen years ago. Benjy Fenwick, twenty-one years ago. Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Albus—

James and Lily Potter—the thirty-first of October—eighteen years ago.

Minerva swept her wand through the air, and the heavy doors of the castle opened creakily. The last hour before dawn was misty and gray, though whether that came from the cloud of dementors that hovered behind the approaching band of Death Eaters remained to be seen.

Remus Lupin. Sirius Black. James Potter. Lily Evans.

Remus. Sirius. James. Lily.

Names, faces, memories of laughter and voices and sights rang through Minerva's mind. She did not know what was wrong with her—why she couldn't make her brain work the way it ought to, why all of these faces kept coming up, when she needed to think, to plan—Filius was at her side, urging her to concentrate, but—

Remus. Sirius. James. Lily.

Tonks.

The Bones family.

The Prewetts.

As if it were not a part of her, Minerva felt her hand slide her wand into her pocket; it would not do to have it out, as though she were a threat, and her fingers brushed against Elphinstone's watch. It was still there, cool and smooth and ticking softly. In a flash, it came to her.

_Elphinstone had come to visit, or so he had said. Minerva knew better; this was not merely a social call, at this time of the afternoon in the middle of the school year. This was Albus, wanting someone to look in on her, and she was not pleased about it._

"_Tell me," Elphinstone had said gently, leaning forward to touch her hand._

_Minerva glanced at the window, where she could hear the joyous shouts of students, given a special treat and let out of lessons to play outdoors._

"_It's not their fault, but they don't really know what they're celebrating. They don't have any idea that a boy, who, just two days ago, had two loving parents, is now all alone. They don't know they're celebrating the deaths of two people who were barely older than they are."_

_Elphinstone had stared at her, stricken. "That's not so, Minerva."_

"_No," she had whispered, her voice trembling. "Of course it's not—but it is how it feels. I looked at my fifth years, and I remembered suddenly that they were first years when Lily and James were here…"_

_Elphinstone had looked down sadly. "We've lost many like them. It's cruel."_

"_It should have been us, not children like Lily and James Potter," Minerva had snapped. "Or Molly Prewett's brothers, or Dorcas Meadowes. If I had had the chance, if I thought I could have saved Edgar Bones, I would have taken that curse in an instant, I swear it—"_

"_Minerva, that's enough," Elphinstone had said suddenly. Minerva closed her mouth, a little surprised. "There's been enough sadness these last few years, and there's going to be more later on, but for now, you—you have to leave your regrets where they lie."_

_Minerva stared at him._

"_The celebration is as much joy as it is pain and grief. It's costing us all something to be happy, now, but we can still be happy. Do you understand me?"_

_Minerva's chin trembled, and she nodded. "I do," she said hoarsely, blinking and quickly dabbing away a tear with her handkerchief._

_Elphinstone stepped forward and took her hand. "Good."_

There was a hulking, huge person with the Death Eaters—too small to be one of the giants—Minerva realized that they had captured Hagrid. The figures crept out of the mist, sending it swirling away—

Faces became clearer—Yaxley, Dolohov, Travers, Greyback, Bellatrix Lestrange—the Malfoys, both looking ill and upset—and then Voldemort himself. A vile black serpent—the one that had attacked Arthur Weasley—lay coiled around his shoulders.

Names, faces, dates—they flickered in front of Minerva's eyes—Nymphadora Tonks—Remus—Sirius—James—Lily—Dorcas Meadowes—Fred Weasley—Colin Creevey—

But where was Potter? Could Voldemort possibly have been lying, trying to deceive them into leaving the castle—?

And then she saw, and she could not stop herself. The scream emanated from her core, from her very bones. It was as much a part of her as the lungs, the heart, the stomach that all turned upside down at once. It had lain dormant in her for twenty-five years, waiting, waiting, growing with each new horror of the world that Minerva saw, and it would wait no longer—

"NO!"

Hands restrained her, and she realized that she had leapt forward, trying to run for the boy, the boy who lay dead in Hagrid's arms, in some sick joke that had him in tears of abject sorrow—Arthur's hands, Bill's hands, Fleur Delacour's hands—they held her back, pulled her behind the line of remaining students and staff, and Molly seized her tightly in her arms, a gesture that was an embrace as much as it was protection—Minerva's shoulders heaved—she could not cry, she had no more tears to shed—but she sobbed, heartbroken, as Bellatrix Lestrange laughed at her.


	36. Chapter 36

Hermione had burst into tears. "No!" she screamed, in synchronization with Ron, whose roar was painful to hear—but worst of all was Ginny, whom Luna was restraining.

"Harry! HARRY!"

Others, others of the thirty fighters still standing, began to yell, began to shout Harry's name, began to jeer the Death Eaters—but Neville said nothing. He looked directly at Voldemort, feeling hatred and fury pound in his veins and the amusement that danced not only in those awful red eyes, but in the laughter and expressions of the Death Eaters around him.

"Old woman!" Bellatrix Lestrange crowed, pointing at Professor McGoangall, and Neville had to restrain himself from drawing his wand—he forced himself to refocus, to concentrate on his goal—

The snake.

It was huge—many feet long and thicker than his arm—but it was unprotected, slithering freely around Voldemort's neck. The jeers and taunts of both sides grew louder, and Voldemort did not see Neville's unbroken stare at the creature…Harry's last order…he, Neville, could do it…he just needed the right spell, and one clear shot…

"SILENCE!" Voldemort shrieked, firing a spell directly into the air, illuminating the dawn sky, and Neville felt his throat constrict, as he knew everyone else did. "It is over," Voldemort hissed. "Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!" He flicked his wand; Hagrid was forced to do his bidding.

Harry's body lay still and unmoving on the bloodstained lawn. It occurred to Neville how very small he was—he always had been.

Voldemort spread his hands wide, gesturing to the body as though he were presenting them with a great gift, and began striding proudly back and forth. "You see?" He shouted. "Harry Potter is dead!" The Death Eaters gave a great shout of laughter. "Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!"

The spell on Neville's throat lifted, as Ron, tearstained and shaking, whether from rage or fear, Neville couldn't tell, stepped forward. A great chorus of shouts rose up, Neville among them—like a pride of lions roaring agreement—

Then another spell closed Neville's throat, and he actually choked—so did many others—his eyes watered, and he lost sight of his target for a moment as he doubled over, coughing— he recovered, straightening up, and began edging away from the crowd.

No one was paying attention to him…all eyes, including the Death Eaters', were on Voldemort…

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," Voldemort said viciously. Neville judged the distance between himself and the snake…thirty feet? How far could he get on just the element of surprise before the Death Eaters realized what was happening?

It was now or never. One good Severing Charm—Neville drew his wand, held his breath, and waited for one moment, as Voldemort gave an evil smile, though Neville didn't believe him for a moment, and he knew that no one else did, either. Harry had died for them—he had died for them, and he had given Neville instructions—

"Killed, while trying to save himself—"

And Neville sprinted forward across the lawn, drawing his wand. He thought, _DIFFIN—_but an Impediment Jinx hit him hard, and he gave a cry of pain. He landed on the ground, less than ten feet from his goal—he had lost his wand, it had flown out of his hand. He could see Harry's body, could see his face behind the round glasses, still and unmoving—

"And who is this?" Voldemort hissed. He had caught Neville's wand and cast it aside, taking a few gliding steps forward to tower over him. He did not dare look back at the crowd, where his grandmother stood with his friends—with everyone who mattered to him—

Neville prepared to answer Voldemort viciously, but he heard a cackle of mad laughter. Bellatrix had hurried over, and she was looking down at him with wide, glassy eyes. "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord!" she shrieked, still giggling. "The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

Voldemort's eyes lit with recognition, but the mention of his parents was like a jolt of electricity—

"Ah, yes, I remember," Voldemort said softly, as Neville staggered to his feet. He looked round; his wand was fifty feet away—he had to kill the snake—and then, Voldemort spoke to him. "But you are pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"

"So what if I am?" Neville retorted, every muscle in his body tensing.

Voldemort gave a humorless smile. "You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

The pronouncement rang in Neville's ears, and in that moment, he realized the truth—this was a madman, a raving madman who genuinely believed that Neville—of _anyone, _Neville—would willingly join him. He was seized by a desire to laugh in Voldemort's face, and had he not been so paralyzed by anger, he would have.

"I'll join you when hell freezes over!" Neville roared, and never, never before had he felt so deeply to his parents, to the people who sacrificed everything they had for him. "Dumbledore's Army!" The shout caught Bellatrix, Voldemort, and most of the Death Eaters by total surprise—the Silencing Charms would not hold anyone who stood on the steps of Hogwarts, and their voices joined with Neville's—

Voldemort seemed to know this too, and he fired three spells, trying desperately to quiet them again—he succeeded, but Neville's throat did not close the way it had before—something was wrong, something was stopping the spells from lasting…

"Very well," Voldemort said, stepping forward, so that the snake was within Neville's arm's reach—he cursed inwardly—

"If that is your choice, Longbottom," said Voldemort quietly, though he knew that everyone could hear every word he spoke, "we revert to the original plan. On your own head be it."

He flourished his wand and there was the sound of shattering glass from within the castle, and something limp and dark, made of some soft, worn material, fluttered down and landed in Voldemort's pale white hand. He shook it, raising it for all to see—it was the Sorting Hat—Neville frowned, thrown off by this behavior—what was going on?

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," said Voldemort loudly. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone." The red eyes turned on him. "Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

The spell came before Neville could react, and his whole body went rigid, rooted to the spot. Voldemort forced the Sorting Hat over his eyes—but still, something felt different—something felt wrong—Neville could feel his feet, his legs—he just had to force them to move—he could break the spell! _Why could he break the spell?_

"Neville here…"

He could still hear Voldemort's muffled voice as he fought against the curse, alternating between wiggling his toes and thinking hard, trying to get the Sorting Hat's attention, to make it wake up—_Come on, help me…you said I could be a Gryffindor, you said I was like my parents…well, here I am!_

"…what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me."

Neville didn't know what was happening—he couldn't see, he couldn't hear anything but screams of horror—what had just happened? He fought harder, and one of his feet moved—

And then, thunder rolled in the distance—but it wasn't thunder—it shook the earth—it was footfalls—had the Hogwarts fighters charged the Death Eaters? Neville didn't understand, he didn't know what was going on, and he was still fighting desperately to free himself—whatever example was being made of him had been cast aside as the pounding footsteps got closer—roars from the giants echoes in the air—

That was it. Neville wrenched free of the Body-Bind and saw hundreds of thousands of reinforcements, defenders of Hogwarts, charging up the lawn, centaurs and humans and a giant.

The Sorting Hat fell away from him—it was on fire. When had that happened? And then instinct, pure instinct took over and told him to reach for it, and he did—his fingers closed on something solid, something heavy, made of cold metal—

It was a sword, and Neville whirled around with it clutched in his hands, as though he had practiced all of his life for this single moment.

The snake's head was off in one clean movement. Its body tumbled to the ground, and Voldemort gave a horrible scream of fury, turning his wand on Neville—but then Neville was blasted backward, off his feet, by what felt like a bubble that came from seemingly nowhere. He landed thirty feet away, out of Voldemort's line of sight—

"HARRY!" shouted Hagrid, and he too seemed free of his spell, taking swipes at Death Eaters and looking around desperately for the body that, Neville was sure, had already been trampled. "HARRY—WHERE'S HARRY?"

Neville bounded to his feet again—Voldemort had already charged toward the castle, drawn by the curses that were flying at him from within the doors. Reinforcements, the citizens of Hogsmeade and families of the Hogwarts students, centaurs and thestrals, were circling round the Death Eaters, forcing them into the enclosed space of the castle—

And Neville ran after Bellatrix Lestrange, who had just disappeared inside.

* * *

"George! Angelina!" Lee roared; he was dueling ferociously with the Death Eater called Yaxley, as Voldemort and swarms of Death Eaters poured into the Great Hall, firing curses at random, not caring who they hit—but the spells were being deflected more than they landed—

Hannah Abbott and Seamus Finnigan skidded into the Great Hall, just avoiding a curse from Voldemort himself. George saw Lee, and he and Angelina came running to help.

It was mayhem; Peeves was dropping ceramic pots on Death Eaters, cackling madly; centaurs fired arrows, downing Death Eaters with deadly accuracy, kicking out sharply with cruel hooves. Lee blocked curse after curse from Yaxley, and George joined in with him—Angelina, though her arm was bound up in a sling, was dueling a Death Eater and winning—

Lee wanted to laugh; the wave of newcomers was overwhelming the Death Eaters—and then the kitchen door exploded off of its hinges, and the Great Hall was flooded with house-elves, who came tearing into the Great Hall, shrieking and brandishing knives, forks, pots, pans, and Lee was fairly certain he saw a meat tenderizer, as well. They attacked the Death Eaters, unrelenting and vicious, egged on by a positively ancient elf who was screaming at the top of his voice, waving a meat cleaver with abandon.

Lee glanced at George, blocking yet another of Yaxley's spells—George looked just as bewildered by the good fortune as Lee felt. Their eyes met, and they nodded at each other—for a moment, Fred was there, speaking in both of their ears—

"_EXPELLIARMUS!" _shouted Angelina, and Yaxley's wand soared into the air. George and Lee leapt as one to tackle him, bringing him hard to the floor. Ten feet away, Professor Flitwick had brought down Dolohov. Hagrid threw a man bodily down the length of the Great Hall—

"Look out!" George shouted, seizing both Lee and Angelina by the collars and yanking them down to avoid the curses that brought down Fenrir Greyback.

"Draco! DRACO!"

"Gits," Lee said viciously, watching the Malfoys weave among the fighters, not joining either side, just looking desperately for Draco. He got up, drawing his wand, but George seized his arm.

"Let them go," he said. He was helping Angelina up. "Let them try and find the prat."

Lee looked into George's eyes. There was someone different there.

Hermione flung up a protective charm, deflecting the curses that flew between Ron, Neville, and the werewolf, Fenrir Greyback—she would've liked to help there—but she knew who she wanted—who she had to find—

A peal of insane laughter brought her attention to the center of the Great Hall. Bellatrix was firing spells at random into the crowd, not caring who she hit. Hermione, her heart still broken at the loss of Harry, still burning with anger for the night at Malfoy Manor, and her eyes still wet with tears, gave a scream of fury and charged forward.

"_EXPULSO!"_ she shrieked, aiming at the flagstones beneath Bellatrix's feet—she stumbled backwards, but emerged from the cloud of dust, coughing—her eyes found Hermione.

"You again," she said, not bothering to disguise the delight in her voice. She laughed horribly. "Let's have it, Mudblood, let's see what you've—"

Hermione fired off four curses so quickly that Bellatrix leapt backward, unable to block them, only just avoiding them. "You're finished—do you understand me? You're _FINISHED!" _Hermione screamed, still casting spell after spell—she had Bellatrix scared—

"_CRUCIO!"_

The spell hit Hermione with a percussive force—but the pain did not come—she fell to the floor, winded, but the pain—the pain did not come. The shock on her own face mirrored Bellatrix's—Bellatrix raised her wand, snarling.

"_Avada—"_

* * *

"Now, Luna!"

Luna leapt forward and Stunned the Death Eater Ginny had just wrestled to the floor. She offered her a hand, and Ginny hopped to her feet, panting.

"Good work," Luna said confidently. "What's next?"

They gazed around the madness that filled the Great Hall—duels raged everywhere; centaurs fought viciously, rendering whole groups of Death Eaters unconscious; Fenrir Greyback lay unmoving in a heap, bound by thick black cords.

In the very center of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall, Professor Slughorn, and the Auror called Kingsley were dueling Voldemort—Death Eaters were falling everywhere, but the survivors and the reinforcements, the defenders of Hogwarts, were perfectly safe—

Luna could see on the surprised faces of others that this was not going unnoticed. Ginny looked at her, shocked.

"How is this—?"

"_CRUCIO!"_

Luna spun around. Hermione was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, but she had just been knocked off of her feet. There was no way to get a clear shot at Bellatrix without hitting someone—and Bellatrix drew her wand, prepared to kill Hermione, who was still getting to her feet—

"Let's go!" yelled Luna. She seized Ginny's hand and in one, fluid movement, they tackled Bellatrix Lestrange around the waist, bringing her down onto the flagstones. And then, suddenly, they were airborne—Bellatrix had cursed them off of her—Luna scrambled back to her feet, her wand out, and she and Ginny leapt up to join Hermione.

"_Incarcerous!"_ Hermione screamed, but Bellatrix, laughter in her face, flicked her wand, and the ropes turned to smoke.

"_Stupefy!" _cried Luna—and then, suddenly, she was dueling Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione and Ginny on either side of her, all three of them trying fiercely to bring her down, to end her cruelty—Luna could see Neville out of the corner of her eye—she knew he would try to come and help, and she did not want him to—

Bellatrix was not laughing at them anymore; Luna was reminded forcibly of a caged animal. The spells she cast at the three of them turned from multicolored jets of light to streaks of brightest green—she no longer wanted to play—she wanted to kill.

* * *

A hand seized Molly's ankle, and she whirled around—Dolohov was fighting to get up again—

"I don't think so!" she barked, and her Stunning spell knocked him out instantly; then she bound him tightly with ropes. A jet of orange light flew past her elbow, and she turned; Arthur, who seemed to have injured one arm, was dueling Travers with Charlie, who had led the reinforcements into the castle. She ran forward, joining in—but all of Travers' spells ricocheted away from them—

"Fancy meeting you here, Mum!" Charlie shouted, blocking a curse. "Whole family present and accounted for?"

Molly's heart tore a little; she blocked a spell—but how could she tell Charlie—?

Travers fell to Arthur's charm, writhing and shrieking as boils erupted over his face and neck. Molly seized Charlie's arm, feeling the stabbing pain rise in her throat. "Charlie, listen to me—"

And then she heard it; there was an echoing bang, and Molly was urged by every motherly instinct in her body to turn around—one of her own was in danger, she knew it—

In the center of the Great Hall, two duels were raging—those fighters who were not still trying to bring down Death Eaters (of which there were many, to Molly's shock)—were watching them as though they were some kind of performance. On one side, Minerva, Kingsley, and Horace Slughorn were dueling Voldemort in front of the stained glass windows that made up the end of the hall—but that was not what Molly saw.

She saw Hermione, Luna, and Ginny, ducking and weaving around the Killing Curses that were flung at them by Bellatrix Lestrange. One sailed just inches over Hermione's head—another narrowly missed Ginny's arm—

Arthur and Charlie both screamed, "Ginny!" but Molly charged forward, blasting people out of her way—she emerged into the wide clear space, knocking into something solid that she did not bother to look at as another Killing Curse just missed Ginny's elbow—

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" she screamed, and Bellatrix stopped fighting long enough to face her, giggling—Molly tore at the strings of her cloak, casting it away, her hair flying behind her as Hermione, Ginny, and Luna gaped at her in astonishment. "OUT OF MY WAY!" she roared at them, and the three girls obeyed at once. She let fly a powerful curse, which only just missed Bellatrix—she was, perhaps, a little rusty—but she could do this—she would do this, her heart told her so—

Bellatrix was laughing at her, laughing hysterically, even as the flagstones at her feet began to crack; Molly could feel the heat rising—neither of them were going to give this up—this was to the end, whatever that may be—a few of the Hogwarts students watching ran forward, wanting to help—

"No! Get back! Get _back!_ She is mine!" Molly shrieked, deflecting a jet of silver light.

Bellatrix bared her teeth, cackling. "What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" she asked. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

Molly did not know how she knew her son's name; she did not care—she was ready for this—she was beyond ready for this moment—

"You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!" Molly bellowed, and the last curse, the final jet of orange light—that was the one.

It was over.

It was over, even as Bellatrix screamed with laughter—the spell hit her directly in the chest, her eyes widened in shock—and she fell backwards…it was over.

Molly stood stock-still, trembling, as Bellatrix Lestrange hit the floor, dead.

* * *

Ron stared in shock as Bellatrix Lestrange, the stuff of nightmares, the woman responsible for Neville's parentless childhood, Hermione's torturer, Sirius's murderer…fell backwards, dead, under his mother's wand.

His jaw dropped, and he turned, thinking that no one else could possibly have seen what he had, but Harry was not there to corroborate—and he would never be there again. And then there was a shriek, a terrible, bloodcurdling scream. The roar of the shocked crowd at Bellatrix's downfall had drawn Voldemort's attention, even across the hall. He saw what had been done.

Professor McGonagall tried to engage Voldemort again, to distract him, as Ron bounded forward, ready to defend his mother.

And his pounding anger was so great, that for a moment, Ron thought that he was responsible for the explosion that rocked the entire hall. But then he saw McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley blasted through the air. Voldemort, in his rage, had blown them clear away, and was gliding towards Ron and his mother—the fatal blow was coming.

"Mum!" Ron shouted, seizing her arm; she had frozen to the spot. "Run!"

"_Protego!"_ roared a voice, and Ron flew backwards, his hand still closed on his mother's arm. The crowd caught them, steadied them, and Ron looked around in confusion. The massive dome of a Shield Charm had sprung up in the center of the hall, just like the night he had returned to apologize to Harry and Hermione, a thousand years ago…

And then, fifteen feet in front of Ron, Harry appeared, pulling off his Invisibility Cloak, his wand drawn and level with Voldemort's chest.

"What the _hell?_" Ron bellowed, torn between anger, horror, and overwhelming, overwhelming, joy. Bizarrely, he felt a lump rise in his throat, and bit the inside of his lip, hard.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed from somewhere in the crowd behind Ron, running forward. He flung out an arm and stopped her. He had just realized something, and he looked at her.

"Hermione," he gasped. "The—the snake—"

She clapped her hands over her mouth. "Merlin's pants."

The crowd had fallen silent, brought to a halt as Harry and Voldemort began to circle each other, edging around the border of the Shield Charm. Voldemort's red eyes were full of fury, scorching like coals.

Harry, without lifting his own eyes from Voldemort's, called out, "I don't want anyone else to try to help. It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

_Neither can live while the other survives_. Ron seized Hermione's hand; she squeezed back fiercely, her eyes full of tears.

"Potter doesn't mean that," Voldemort hissed, and Ron's heart leapt into his throat; there was fear, abject fear, in that voice. "That isn't how he works. Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

But Ron's mind was racing. The only way Voldemort would have believed that Harry was dead was if Harry had allowed a Killing Curse to hit him. That meant that Harry, the only person in the world to have ever survived the Killing Curse—had done it again. This was impossible.

"Nobody," Harry answered calmly, holding his wand level. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…"

"One of us?" Voldemort laughed, mirthless and insane. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" Harry shouted, and Ron felt Hermione's fingernails dig into his hand. "Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and _still_ survived, and returned to fight again?"

"_Accidents!"_ screamed Voldemort, and the shriek was bone-chilling. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"

Ron stared at Harry. He was at the farthest point of the circle; they were facing each other, fifty feet apart, but Harry's eyes were on Voldemort.

"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," Harry said quietly. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it?" he demanded. "I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people—

"But you did not!"

"—I meant to, and that's what did it," Harry retorted; even amongst this tension, Ron heard the blissfully familiar sound of Hermione's gasp of sudden comprehension. "I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you."

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered.

* * *

"Minerva—_Minerva_."

Her head spinning and aching, Minerva forced her eyes open—Horace was hunched over her, and he breathed a sigh of relief, helping her to sit up. The last she remembered, she had been dueling Voldemort—now she lay prone on the floor of the Great Hall. A voice was talking loudly, and everything in the room had gone very still; no one was moving.

"You—you're back," Minerva said hoarsely, still fighting to make sense of her surroundings. Her back, shoulder, and hip ached badly. She was fairly sure her right arm was broken. "Horace—I—"

"Never mind that now, never mind that," he blustered. "You need to get up—you need to see this—can you stand?"

With his help, Minerva got to her feet and looked into the wide, empty space at the center of the room. She almost fainted again. Harry Potter, very much alive, held his wand ready to attack as he and Voldemort circled each other, treading the lines of some invisible ring.

Harry was in the middle of speaking; unlike Voldemort, he looked calm and collected. Voldemort's eyes were wide and made, burning with hatred.

"Yes, Dumbledore's dead," Harry said softly, "but you didn't have him killed." Minerva clutched Horace's arm tighter. "He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."

Minerva's heart leapt into her throat, as a gasp of shock rippled around the room. "What on earth—?" she spluttered, but Horace silenced her.

"_Horcruxes_, Minerva, he had Horcruxes," he murmured, looking horribly shocked. "I just...I never imagined...and Potter's destroyed them..."

"Oh, my," she whispered.

"What childish dream is this?" Voldemort hissed angrily at Harry.

"Severus Snape wasn't yours," Harry said, and Minerva was shocked—_shocked_—to hear the pride in his voice. Her heart felt as though it were going to beat out of her chest as her mind raced, trying to keep up with what she was hearing. "Snape was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand." Harry swallowed, not lowering his wand or even blinking.

"You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"

"Oh," Minerva gave a little moan, and felt her eyes fill with tears.

"Snape's Patronus was a doe, the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children," said Harry. Voldemort's nostrils flared wide and he flushed even whiter. "You should have realized," Harry continued, raising his eyebrows, "he asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"

Minerva clapped a hand over her mouth. How wrong she had been…how very, very wrong about so many things…and—all the while, the answers had been directly in front of her—

"He desired her, that was all," Voldemort replied scornfully. "But when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him—"

"Of course he told you that," Harry said, and for a moment, Minerva heard in his voice the pity and understanding of Albus Dumbledore. "But he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"

Minerva's brain was churning…she was faltering, trying to understand, while at the same time, she knew that Voldemort was moments away from striking, from striking Harry down for good.

"It matters not!" he shrieked, laughing with insane relief. "It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great _love!_ Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand!"

Still, the two trod their circle, and Harry was unfazed, unsurprised by Voldemort's reaction. The entire hall was rapt; Minerva actually leaned in a bit, listening intently. Her hand closed on her wand—but there was no way she could help, not at this moment—

Voldemort was now speaking rapidly, feverishly, his red eyes on fire as he gazed intently at Harry. "Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy—I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"

Minerva gaped at him. He was mad—utterly mad—the Elder Wand, the mythical, invincible wand was a fantasy—

"My word," Slughorn whispered, as the same memory struck both of them. Dumbledore—the wand, the wand he had always carried, won in the duel against Grindelwald—Minerva remembered asking him about it. He had always said that Grindelwald had left it to him, a token of esteem between rivals—but could it be? And then, like a crashing wave, Minerva recalled the night that she had seen Voldemort in the castle, the night that she had looked out at the tomb…

"Yeah, it did," said Harry, and Minerva felt suddenly lightheaded. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done…Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…"

Voldemort hissed horribly, his eyes suddenly burning a brighter red. "What is this?"

"It's your one last chance," said Harry, his voice firm, but compassionate. "It's all you've got left…I've seen what you'll be otherwise…Be a man…try…Try for some remorse…"

"You dare—?" Voldemort shriek.

"Yes, I dare," Harry cut him off, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle. That wand still isn't working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."

"He killed —"

"Aren't you listening? _Snape never beat Dumbledore!"_ Harry shouted, his voice echoing and terrible. Voldemort was startled into silence."Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"

"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" Voldemort spat, and Minerva had the distinct impression that his smile, his laughter, was leading to a breaking point—the final curse was coming. "I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! Its power is mine!"

Minerva felt ill, but Harry looked impatient and angry. "You still don't get it, Riddle, do you?" he demanded. "Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? _The wand chooses the wizard_…The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance…

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

"_What?" _Slughorn gasped, and the cry was echoed across the room. As though drawn by a magnet, Minerva's eyes found the back of Draco Malfoy's head—he had been reunited with his parents. They stood in a corner, looking too frightened to come closer, but just as scared to flee. The boy's eyes widened.

"But what does it matter?" Voldemort hissed. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone…and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…"

"But you're too late," Harry told him. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him."

Minerva's head was spinning as she looked at the wand Harry held…the only people in the room that seemed to comprehend any of this were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who stood directly across the circle from her, white-faced and plainly terrified. She was seized by the sudden notion that the events of this one night might never make sense at all.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" Harry continued quietly. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does…I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

And suddenly, so suddenly that Minerva and many others cried out in fright, a burst of sunlight blared through the stained glass windows—in the center of the circle, Voldemort, his back to the light, slashed his wand down—the jet of green went straight for Harry's heart, and Minerva screamed out—

"_Expelliarmus!"_ shouted Harry, obviously blind, not able to take aim, and the red light collided with the green—

"Good heavens!" roared Slughorn, leaping back a few paces and taking Minerva with him as gold sparks exploded deafeningly in midair and set the circle aflame in gold. The Elder Wand spun through the air, and Harry snatched it in one hand, as the green jet blasted backward, directly at Voldemort. It hit its mark, and Minerva gasped—

The monster fell, red eyes wide and lifeless, and landed spread-eagled on the floor of the Great Hall.

The gold flames vanished at once, and Harry stared at the body stretched before him. He was breathing heavily, and didn't seem to be able to do anything more than stare down at Voldemort in shock.

And then the crowd erupted into screams, tears, shouts of joy and shock and fright—Minerva, ignoring the burning pain of her broken arm, ran forward and seized Harry in an embrace he did not seem to notice. She kissed the top of his head just before he disappeared under a mountain of limbs, of grateful, overjoyed cheers as every single person in the room leapt on him.

Minerva's tears spilled over; she sobbed, leaning her head back to gaze up at the brilliant, gleaming gold of the enchanted ceiling. The sunlight—fierce, real, and alive for what felt like the first time in decades—dazzled her, blinded her, as it gleamed through the broken stained glass windows and ruined walls of Hogwarts.

Harry had won.


	37. Epilogue

I think about thirty different people told me that they cried while reading various parts of this story, but I need to tell all of you that I have just waded through **two hundred and twelve** new reviews, collected since Thursday, and I cannot stop crying.

I know this is a hobby, and to be honest, even I think it's geeky that I write as much fanfiction as I do, but...this story was a test of my own resolve. I do, very, very much want to be a writer, and (oh my god, you're all so lucky you can't see my face right now, and that I'm not talking this out, because I can't even speak) people like you, the owners of the world's most beautiful imaginations, willing to come on any ride with me, are the reason that I believe I'm going to succeed. You give me faith.

I really wish I could be more coherent right now, but I'm sorry, it's not possible. I just need you all to know that you've given me a gift I am never going to be able to repay.

You have charged my life with magic.

Thank you.

* * *

"Ginny, may I have one of those medical kits, please?"

Ginny turned. Her father, pale and worn, gave her a tired smile. There was blood on the sleeve of his jumper. "Are you hurt?" she asked. "Here, Dad—let me help."

"No, no," he said, taking a step back. "I'm all right. Your mother's in Gryffindor Tower, she asked me to fetch one for a student."

Ginny frowned; he was holding his arm oddly, and she had the distinct impression he was not telling the truth. She reached over to the pile of medical supplies that the St. Mungo's teams had brought in during their first visit that morning, and handed him a kit. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine, sweetheart, thank you," he replied gently, kissing the top of her head. He turned and left. Ginny heaved a sigh, watching him head down the rows of cots for the injured, which had replaced the tables, following breakfast.

There were fifty or so volunteers—survivors and reinforcements who had joined the battle—milling about, starting to clean up the least of the damage and looking after the injured who still waited to go to St. Mungo's. The hospital was overwhelmed right now.

Barely an hour after Voldemort finally fell, wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement arrived to collect the remaining Death Eaters. A team of Aurors conducted a full sweep of the castle and grounds and found the Carrows crammed in a broom closet on the seventh floor, and carted them off with Yaxley, Dolohov, Travers, Pius Thicknesse, and a number of others.

Not long after came the Healers and nurses from St. Mungo's, who began bringing the severely wounded to the hospital. Professor Sprout, Ernie Macmillan, and Cho Chang had been among the twenty who had gone with them.

Ginny looked down at her watch; in another ten minutes, the Healers would come back for Firenze, Lavender Brown, and Angelina Johnson. Lavender, in particular, had been impressively tough, and insisted that others go ahead of her. Madam Pomfrey had been tending her carefully by the hour, and she was resting on a cot a few feet away. Firenze, too, held back because of St. Mungo's lack of preparation for a centaur, lay on a blanket near the wall, sleeping soundly, while Padma Patil changed the bandages on his injured flank.

"Ginny?"

She looked around to see Hannah, who was walking down the aisle of cots with Neville, their expressions sober. She held out a piece of parchment.

Ginny approached her. "Have you—is that—?"

"Fifty-two," Neville said heavily. Hannah held out the list. "We got all their names."

Ginny stared down at the scroll, feeling tears burn her eyes. She blinked hard, and the names blurred. Fred…Colin…Tonks…Lupin…

"You should—why don't you take this to Professor Flitwick?" she said, clearing her throat. "He and Professor McGonagall will know what to do."

Neville placed a bracing hand on her shoulder, and he and Hannah walked away together. Ginny sniffed and wiped her eyes quickly on the sleeve of her violet jumper. How on earth could the last twenty-four hours have been real? She kept thinking that she was going to wake up, still in Aunt Muriel's spare attic room…Harry would still be a million miles away…Fred would still be alive…

What felt like a tiny shard of glass shifted in Ginny's heart, and she closed her eyes against her tears. There were many of these pointed little pieces—one for each horror she had witnessed, and each moment of loss. And, at the moment, they were as real as anything. Ginny could feel them draining her strength, bleeding her out…so much of her wanted desperately to just lie on a cot and stay there…

"You look exhausted," said a soft voice.

Ginny sniffed again and opened her eyes. Luna stood before her, pale, her eyes overlarge and protuberant in her thin face. Her blonde hair was singed and dirty, just as Ginny knew her own was.

She cocked her head to one side, gazing unblinkingly at Ginny. "Maybe you should take a rest," she began, but Ginny cut her off in a tight hug. Luna was startled for a moment by the contact, but then relaxed and returned the gesture.

"You're alive," Ginny said, choking on her voice. "You're okay."

"Thanks to your brother and his wife," said Luna, with a faint laugh. "They're remarkable people, you know."

Ginny pulled back, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry, Luna—Neville and I—we should've—" she trailed off, unable to speak, but Luna said nothing. "I wanted to find you—I wanted to come and get you the moment I knew where you were—"

There was something very far off in Luna's expression, and in a flickering moment, Ginny could see that some infinitesimal part of her had been lost for good. Then, she realized that precisely the same thing was true of her, as well.

"Even if you could have, I would never have asked you to come after me," she said seriously. "I was glad enough knowing that you were both safe—well, close to it, anyway."

Ginny drew a heavy sigh and hugged her again. "You know, you're rather remarkable yourself, Luna."

Luna's pale eyebrows shot up, and she looked genuinely delighted. "Am I?"

Ginny laughed and nodded. "You are." Something over Luna's shoulder caught her eye; Xenophilius Lovegood, dressed in ragged gray robes and escorted by two exhausted-looking Aurors, had just come hurrying into the Great Hall. He was looking around frantically, standing on his tiptoes to see around the room.

Ginny tipped her head towards him. "Look, Luna."

She turned, and her whole body went rigid. "Daddy," she whispered. And, for one of the only times in Ginny's memory, Luna's eyes filled with tears.

"Well, go on," Ginny said, nudging her gently. "Don't keep him waiting any longer."

"Daddy!" Luna cried, and she ran off down the rows of cots, practically flying. Xenophilius looked around just in time to catch her in his arms.

"Luna," he exclaimed, hugging her tightly. "Luna, my Luna…you're here…"

Ginny smiled, folding her arms as a slight lump rose in her throat. She pushed it away and turned her back on the Lovegoods, allowing them their privacy.

She really was exhausted, she knew…but sleep meant dreaming, and…and she didn't want to do any of that just yet. For every good thing that had happened in the course of the night, many worse things had, as well, and Ginny did not feel that she could face them alone. The shards of broken glass in her heart twinged a little, and she shoved the feelings down; she needed to hold onto the strength she still had.

And, at any rate, there was time, now. Time to face these feelings. Time to be with the brothers she still had, time to reunite with Ron, and Hermione, and Neville…

…And Harry.

Ginny heard a faint whimper of pain and looked around. Lavender, it appeared, had woken up. She hurried over to her cot, picking up a medical kit as she ran. The right half of Lavender's face was covered in bandages, as were her arm and leg. Her eyes were closed tightly, her teeth gritted in pain.

"Lavender?" Ginny asked, gently placing a hand on hers. "Lavender, can I get you something?"

A tear slipped down Lavender's cheek, but she shook her head slightly. "Thanks, Ginny, I—I think I'm all right…I just tried to move…shouldn't have done that…"

"Can I get you something for the pain?" she asked. "It won't be long till they come back for you, but—well, Madam Pomfrey'll have my head if you're hurting any more than you should be…"

Lavender gave a little scoff and half a smile. "Thanks."

"Good," Ginny said, and she knelt down, rummaging through the tiny, enchanted box. She was almost elbow-deep in medicines before her hand closed on the bottle she wanted. "Okay, this won't put you to sleep—we're running short on that—"

"S'all right," Lavender murmured, and Ginny nodded, uncorking the vial hurriedly. Then she placed one hand behind Lavender's head and helped her drink the potion. "Oh," Lavender sighed, her face relaxing. "That's a lot better…thanks, Ginny."

"Of course," she said gently. "Can I get you anything else? Water? Or—"

"I think your dad saved my life."

Ginny blinked. "What?"

Lavender closed her eyes, as though she were trying hard to remember. "After I fell…after Greyback brought us both over the balcony—I blacked out. But the next thing I knew, someone was pulling me to safety…I mean, I think it was your dad. He looked like Ron…except with glasses…and less hair…no offense."

Ginny laughed, squeezing her hand. "That—that sounds like Dad."

Lavender's eyes opened again. "Thank him for me, will you?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Ah—Miss Brown, how are you?" Professor McGonagall stood at the end of Lavender's cot, her expression exhausted and worried.

"N.E.W.T.-standard, Professor," Lavender joked, with a faint smile.

Professor McGonagall was quiet for a moment, and then tore her gaze away from Lavender's many wounds to look at Ginny. "Are the Healers coming back?"

"Any minute," Ginny confirmed, frowning slightly. Professor McGonagall, like her own father, was carrying herself oddly; she held her right arm close to her body, obviously working hard not to move it. A dark bruise was flourishing up the side of her neck, visible under the collar of the torn, dusty dressing gown she still wore.

"Good, good," she murmured. "I should go to meet them—oh." She had moved her arm and winced.

"Professor?" Ginny asked.

Professor McGonagall drew a breath in through her sharp nostrils, closing her eyes for a moment, and then turned to face her. "Miss Weasley, could I trouble you for some assistance?"

Ginny glanced at Lavender, who looked worried, and rose. "Of course, Professor." She followed Professor McGonagall to an out-of-the-way cluster of cots. "I can get Madam Pomfrey—"

"Madam Pomfrey is quite busy enough at the moment," McGonagall said calmly, settling herself on a cot and adjusting her arm with a tince. "It's a simple enough spell, Miss Weasley, I have every confidence that you will perform it admirably."

Ginny stared at her. "What?"

"There is a handbook of spells with the medical supplies, is there not?" she asked in a businesslike tone.

"I—well, yes, but—"

"Fetch a spellbook," McGonagall instructed. "Leave that kit with me, I'll find myself a potion to make it easier for you."

Ginny, a little shell-shocked and rather frightened, hurried to collect a book and returned to face Professor McGonagall. "All right," she said, opening it before her teacher, who began flipping through the pages one-handed.

"There," McGonagall told her, pointing to a page filled with diagrams and figures. Ginny bit her lip anxiously. "It's simpler than it looks, Miss Weasley."

"I—I don't know," Ginny answered. "Maybe Madam Pomfrey—"

"Miss Weasley," McGonagall said, her voice a little sharp, and Ginny could tell that she was in pain, despite the potion she had taken. "I know that you are more than capable of this spell. Do me the courtesy of proving me right."

Ginny swallowed. "O-okay," she said, looking down at the diagrams. "So it's just—a prod, and—_Emendo?"_

"Exactly, exactly," said Professor McGonagall, closing her eyes and nodding. She adjusted her hold on her arm and took a deep breath.

Ginny took a deep breath and raised her wand, laying a gentle hand on Professor McGonagall's shoulder. _"Emendo_," she murmured, and a rush of cool air seemed to fly out of her wand. Professor McGonagall's arm was illuminated in blue for a moment, and Ginny held her breath—

"Ah," Professor McGonagall sighed, massaging her shoulder gratefully. She opened her eyes and nodded at Ginny. "Thank you, Miss Weasley, you did very well." Then her eyes seemed to lock on something happening behind Ginny's back. "Oh," she said, surprised. A warm expression filled her face beneath the tired, strained lines.

Ginny knew who it was even as she spun around. Her heart leapt into her throat, wildly beating. "Harry," she said stupidly.

He looked deeply tired; he had obviously not slept long enough, and part of her was exasperated with him for coming downstairs to help when he ought to have been in bed, just like Ron and Hermione. His eyes—the eyes, she had forgotten the exact, beautiful shade of green in those eyes—were rimmed with red and ringed by dark circles, and he was so pale that the scar on his forehead seemed to stand out just a bit more than usual.

The moment seemed to Ginny to last an eternity. It was the first real look she had had at him in months. He was filthy, covered in burns, dirt, and blood, his clothing singed—but he was alive, and she wanted to leap into his arms—

There came a slight cough, and Ginny was jolted back to reality. So, apparently was Harry. They both looked around to see Professor McGonagall getting stiffly to her feet. She laid a hand on Ginny's shoulder to pull herself up and looked sharply between them.

"I believe I'm feeling much better," she said briskly, massaging her neck slightly. "Thank you very much, Miss Weasley." And with a nod, she swept off down the table, leaving Ginny alone with Harry. They faced each other. It occurred to Ginny suddenly, randomly, that he had undoubtedly heard Professor McGonagall scream for him—he had heard _Ginny_ scream for him, thinking he was dead—and _oh_, how much he had to explain to her…how much she didn't understand…

"I—er," Harry mumbled. He looked very uncomfortable, and it set her on edge as well. She finally looked away from his face, glancing down the row of cots.

"The, er—the Healers will be here soon. They'll take Firenze and Lavender, and a few others. You don't need the hospital, do you?" she asked suddenly, checking him up and down swiftly.

"No," he answered immediately, "I'm fine. I—I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have left you all on your own—"

Ginny fought to not roll her eyes; he was so, so close, and still he was not there—not truly. "Don't be stupid," she told him gently. "No one blames you. We haven't even started on rebuilding, it's just been a lot of looking after the injured." She could see the question in his face… "We—er, we made a…a list of…people."

Harry nodded, his throat dry. "How's—?" He paused, looking even more uncomfortable, as though he felt he was trespassing. Ginny knew that look all too well.

"Mum's gone up to Gryffindor Tower to rest," she said, trying to be reassuring. "She's…well, she'll be okay. Dad's looking after her."

_What would he do if I just kissed him, right now?_ she wondered wildly. She pushed it away, her eyes roving anywhere but his beautiful, brilliant green ones—the ones she had thought she was never going to see again—

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said.

"Sorry?" she snapped, startling even herself. She stared at Harry in disbelief. "Sorry you just ended the war? Sorry that millions of people are safe now? That Death Eaters are finally being locked away, that You-Know-Who is _finally_ dead?"

Harry gaped at her. She was speaking feverishly, almost without thinking—it was as though everything she had felt in the last night was coming to life on its own—everything she had ever wanted to say to him was spilling out—

"We lost a _lot_, Harry," she said, and she took a step closer to him. "But we _won_. And—and I don't think that that is anything to be sorry about at all."

And as Harry stared into her eyes, she felt a pain in her throat; it was a word, a thought, a feeling—one last thing that was stuck inside, that had to be set free—and in that moment, she could see that he felt it too—that he would say it, too—

"Harry?" she whispered.

He blinked, and she took another step closer, close enough that if she just reached out a bit, she could hold his hands. He gazed at her as her eyes burned with tears.

"I love you," said Ginny.

Harry's jaw dropped, he blinked several times, and for a moment, Ginny's heart stopped—her breath stopped—she ceased to be, for just one moment. Then—

"Yeah," he said softly, unable to tear his eyes from her face. "I—I love you too."

Ginny leapt into his arms, laughing as her tears spilled over. She didn't care that the pieces of glass—Fred, Remus, Tonks, Colin, and so many others—were pricking her heart. She didn't care that people were staring as she, filthy and burned and bloodstained, cried into Harry Potter's filthy, burned, and bloodstained collar. All she wanted for the rest of her time on earth was this feeling as they clung to each other beneath the enchanted ceiling, the brilliant blue sky—

This feeling of life, charged with magic.


End file.
